And Justice for All
by Larabee's Lady
Summary: The events of September 11, 2001, set in the Old West.


**Disclaimers:** I own absolutely nothing to do with this.  
**Comments:** This is, basically, more or less, in a way, kind of Sept 11 set in the Old West, written from September to December of 2001.

**And Justice for All**  
by Kathy B.

A match flared in the darkness. In its flickering light, the shadowy figure touched it to the long fuse that draped from the back of the loaded wagon. The fuse sparked to life and began to burn...

* * *

Five men sat around the table closest to the window. They watched two of the players carefully, ignoring the unusually full building of noisy patrons.

"I'll see that...and raise you." Chris Larabee casually slid a chip into the pile in the middle of the table and smiled.

Ezra looked at the others around the table, before looking at Chris. "Let's make this hand just a little more interesting. I win this hand, you buy me a drink. You win this hand, I buy you one."

Chris arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

The gambler held up his empty flask. "My reserves are gone, our esteemed territorial governor only bought one round...and I'm still thirsty."

* * *

The figure headed into town, the lit fuse trailing behind. He had timed this. At just the right time, he'd release the harness...

* * *

Chris looked at his cards again. "All right, Ezra, you got yourself a deal."

"Hmmph," one of the men grumbled. "Governor thinks he can buy support for statehood with liquor. We'll go the way o' Texas, you just watch and see–a republic 'occupied' by the yoo-nited states!"

"Now, pard," said the man next to him, "you ain't still fired up over that? That was years ago. It's a state, now."

"Is not! And there's plenty o' folks feels like me!"

"Gentlemen!" Ezra interrupted. "I'm playin' a hand here. No politics, please." He grinned, turning to Chris. "Call."

Chris laid out his cards with a smile. "I'll have a whiskey."

"Not so fast. You won the last hand, but this drink's mine. And I'll have rye–"

The blond shrugged good-naturedly and stood up.

"–and make sure it isn't that watered-down house brand."

Chris shot him a sardonic look and headed for the bar. The territorial governor was still there, having a lively debate with a man Chris recognized as a lawyer in town. He ignored them as he eased his way between the press of bodies to order the drinks.

* * *

The man cursed to himself. He'd glanced back and could see that the fuse had gone out. With another muttered curse, he reached down by his boot for some wadded cloth he had soaked in alcohol, just in case. He lit the cloth and tossed it behind him, before whipping the horse into action. There was no time left now.

* * *

As Chris stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get to him, sounds cut through the hub-bub in the room. It sounded like...shouts, screams from outside. He turned to get a glance through the crowd out the front window. What was it? A fire?

Ezra had heard the ruckus, too. From his position near the window, he could down one end of the street. As he did, he saw a fully-loaded wagon on fire, being pulled by a terrified horse. The animal veered and, for a second from the corner of his eye, Ezra thought he glimpsed a figure trying to leap from the wagon itself and onto the horse. He leaped toward the saloon doors, even as the fiery wagon headed straight towards the windows and the space he and his fellow card players had just occupied.

Vin had arrived a few minutes earlier and was standing just inside the saloon doors when he wheeled around to see what was happening.

"GET OUT!" shouted Ezra.

Vin stepped aside to help him shove saloon patrons out the door and into the street. Just then the wagon hit.

* * *

Buck was several yards down the street, when he heard people screaming. He could see them waving their arms, running and shouting. Then he saw the source of everyone's terror. Buck watched helplessly as the wagon and its blazing cargo crashed through the large window, just beside the doors. As the horse disappeared into the alley, still galloping at full tilt, there was a loud boom and a whoosh. The building erupted in flames. It looked as if Hell had come to town.  
  
Buck glanced around, looking for the others. JD and Josiah were running towards him as he started for the saloon. "Get Nathan!" he shouted to JD, without breaking stride.  
  
The saloon had been full. Injured were helping still more injured as they struggled out of the fire. There were burned, injured, dead and dying everywhere as a few brave souls neared the flames, trying to drag out everyone they could. Others were forming a bucket brigade, but Buck could see the task was hopeless. The fire was already spreading to the two adjacent buildings on either side of the saloon.  
  
Nathan had appeared along with JD, and now he set to trying to help the most injured as best he could. Josiah had left Buck's side to help with the injured and to deliver last rites to the dying.

Two figures, leaning on each other for support, appeared from the smoke and flames, coughing and choking as they staggered out of the building. When they got clear, both dropped to their knees trying to draw a breath.

Buck ran up to them.

"You boys alright?"

Vin started to speak, but his efforts ended in a coughing fit as tears streamed from his burning eyes. He nodded helplessly.

"No, you ain't."

"We need—to get—people out—" Ezra gasped.

"You stay put," Buck ordered. He straightened and started for the building to see if he could pull anyone out, when someone yelled.

"Get back! Everybody get back!"  
  
There was a moan and a shriek of splintering and shattering wood. Everyone scattered, as whatever remained standing of the two-story building gave way and collapsed into a burning heap. The building immediately to the north began to shudder ominously.

Buck and members of the bucket brigade moved toward the wreckage in a desparate attempt to pull out any survivors.

Nathan grabbed JD's arm as he ran past.

"Get Charlie Shaunessy to open the telegraph office. Tell him to wire every town within 20 miles of here. We're gonna need as many doctors as we can find." He looked at the burning wreckage again. "And some coffinmakers," he added quietly.

JD looked at him for a beat, nodded, then turned and headed down to street to Shaunessy's room.

Nathan moved quickly, trying to figure who needed the most attention and who could wait. He paused beside Vin and Ezra, who were now sitting on the ground, sooty and dazed.

"How're you two?" Without waiting for an answer, Nathan put a wad of cloth into Ezra's hand and positioned it over a scalp wound the gambler had received from the flying glass.  
  
Ezra looked at his forearm numbly. "I believe I am mostly intact. My arm appears to be burned." He paused to wipe his stinging eyes with his good arm, then pressed the cloth to his wound again. "We have to get the others out..." Suddenly his expression changed. "Chris..." he whispered.  
  
Nathan and Vin both looked at him. "Where's Chris? Was he with you?"  
  
Ezra blinked owlishly back at the healer. "He—he was...and then he...went back to the bar...to get our drinks..."  
  
Vin turned, desperately searching for any sign of the lean peacekeeper.  
  
Nathan put a reassuring hand on Vin's shoulder. "We'll find 'im. How you doin'?"

Vin didn't seem to hear. He ignored Nathan's gentle hands as the black man inspected a cut over Vin's eye and a long gash along his thigh.

"Ain't too deep but it's still gonna need some stitchin'. You're lucky it ain't bleedin' too bad. Ezra, you think you can look after him fo' awhile till I can batch you both?"

Ezra squinted up at him. "Do what you have to do. You have my assurances of assistance."

"Anybody know if the governor got out?" shouted someone.

"They took 'im to the hotel," shouted another.

Nathan smiled reassuringly. "That's good news. If he made it out, maybe Chris did, too." Then he disappeared to go help other victims.

Another cry tore through the night air. "Run! The other one's goin'!"

Vin and Ezra looked back, sickened by this unending nightmare, as the second building gave a mighty shake, tilted ominously toward the remains of the saloon, and then collapsed into it. They stared for a moment, then looked at each other with one thought.

Chris.

* * *

Buck, JD, and Josiah had done their best to help put out the fire. The ruined building was still smoldering even as some of the men in town tried to pick through the debris, searching for survivors.

Many of the women in town had come out to assist Nathan, as he did his best with the most wounded. Ezra and Vin had allowed their injuries to be tended but each adamantly refused to sit on the sidelines when there was still so much rescue work to do. Nathan shrugged and admonished them to only do as much as was reasonable, though, under the circumstances, he had to admit that he didn't know how he'd have defined "reasonable."

Two lines of bucket brigades were still working feverishly to put out the fires, but all the liquor in the building continued to cause flare-ups.

Buck was down to his soot-streaked and sweat-soaked undershirt. His arms ached and his hands were cut, splintered, red and sore from digging through the wreckage around the perimeter of where the two buildings once stood.

Exhausted, he stepped back until he was across the street and sat down on the boardwalk. One of the townswomen handed him a ladleful of water. He accepted it with a grateful smile.

JD was in his shirtsleeves. He glanced across the street, and came over to join Buck.

"I heard that other building may go, too," said JD.

Buck stared at the wreckage a moment, then looked around him at all the chaos and suffering spread throughout the street. "Who would do somethin' like this? And why?"

"I don't know," JD replied softly. "I never saw anything like it."

"Kid...I'm older'n you...and _I_ never saw anything like that..."

"Not even in the war?"

Buck shook his head. "War...Soldiers...It's different. I can't explain it. It just is."

The two men watched all the activity around them, each lost in his own thoughts as Vin and then Ezra joined them.

Buck looked up at them hopefully. "Any sign o' Chris?"

Vin looked at the ground and shook his head.

The ladies man then turned to Ezra. "You sure he was in the saloon?"

"I'm sure. I saw him at the bar just before..." His voice trailed off.

"Maybe he went to the privy," suggested JD. "He could've done that, couldn't he, Ezra?"

"He could have," Ezra replied without conviction.

Buck stared back at the ruins, as if an effort of will would make Chris appear. "Until we find a body, he's among the missing."

"We may not find all the bodies," Vin rasped. "Some could've been–"

"He's missin'." Buck's expression told them all he would accept no other condition.

* * *

Chris had only glimpsed the approaching destruction. He had barely enough time to scream "Everyone, get down!" before the explosion rocked the building, knocking him off his feet. Glass shards were flying across the room from broken windows and gradually exploding bottles. Some of it struck Chris in the face, and he felt a large shard cut his arm.

Despite the bodies on the floor around him, he managed to roll onto his back. He could see the ceiling above him as he struggled to collect his thoughts enough to escape the fire. The ceiling appeared to sag, then crack.

Chris struggled to his feet and lunged for the back door just as the building came down around him. His skull exploded in pain and then all went dark.

He wasn't out for long, when he opened his eyes painfully, then blinked as the intense smoke made them burn and water. There was smoke all around him, except for a tiny amount of air close to the floor. He tried to get to his feet, but found that the falling upper floor had formed a kind of tent over him, protecting him from the remains of the roof.

He could hear people calling. Chris tried to respond, but his throat felt seared from the heat. Desperately, he clawed his way out, then grimaced in agony as his right arm refused to cooperate.

Rough hands suddenly grabbed him by his arms and dragged him outside, ignoring his painful protests. The hands laid him on the ground. In the dim periphery of his vision, he could only see boots as his rescuer started back toward the burning wreckage.

His head ached and everything appeared to move and sway. A host of tiny cuts around his eyes stung as he squinted at the fire. It looked like... His house?

His eyes widened and at first he tried to get back to it, to retrieve the people he loved. No, he realized suddenly. They're not there...This was someplace else... Something equally horrible...He couldn't go through this again, he thought, even as the acrid smell of burnt timber filled his lungs.

He coughed and staggered to his feet. Chris slowly limped away. He had to escape this...this nightmare. It seemed to be all around him. He could feel the heat on his skin. His head was pounding and he felt the urge to sleep. Shadows raced all around him, shouting at each other. He ignored them and just kept moving. He had to keep moving.

And still the smell and the heat haunted him. It was everywhere. It was all around him and on him and through him. He reeked of smoke. He knew that smell all too well, and he hated it immensely. With his one good arm, he stripped off his shirt, crying out hoarsely as his arm erupted in white-hot pain. He discarded the ruined garment behind him in the alley as his feet moved mechanically forward. He wanted that smoky smell as far away from him as it could get.

As he left the alley, he clumsily managed to get his undershirt off and drop it to the ground, too. The night air felt cool on his skin...He welcomed the change from the heat of the Hell behind him.

So tired...His body ached and his headache was making him lightheaded. He paused and tried to figure out where he was... Ahead of him, just beyond the long alleyway, was a building with colored windows...Something about it was familiar...Someone he knew would be there...

The steps to the building seemed to reach to the sky. Chris took a deep breath that brought on a hacking fit, his head pounding mercilessly with each cough. Slowly he managed them and went inside.

A church. Why was he in a church? His blurred and wavering vision scanned the empty room. It didn't smell smoky in here.

Sleep. He needed to sleep. He limped to the front of the room and laid down on the wooden bench. Sleep. Just for a little while...

* * *

Josiah stood in the street and sighed wearily as dawn slowly rose over the town. In the light of day, the devastation was almost overwhelming. Two large buildings destroyed, and a third creaking ominously. Dozens of people hurt or killed, some from trying to rescue others.

The ruined buildings were still smoking from the fire and explosions. Small pockets of fire continued to flair up as chunks of debris were shifted.

Some of the townswomen were offering food and water to the men who were still hoping to find anyone alive in under the piles of wood, floors, ceiling, and furniture.

Josiah looked around him for the others. Nathan hadn't paused to rest once since it happened and his exhaustion was beginning to show. Vin's thigh was bandaged and, much to his frustration, prevented him from doing any of the heavy work, so he was assisting Nathan wherever he could. Buck and JD were helping some of the men move an especially large chunk of fallen, charred timber, Ezra's arm was bandaged and the sleeves of his soot-covered shirt were rolled up past his elbows, as he helped pick through the ruins in the gruesome task of pulling out bodies. Hopefully, live ones. Mostly dead.

Seeing Josiah, Vin paused and straightened. His shirt was open, stained with soot and blood. With a grateful nod, he accepted some water from one of the women.

"Any sign of Chris?"

Vin shook his head. "We gotta find out who did this."

"Soon. Right now, we gotta see to everyone else first."

"Meanwhile whoever done this is getting' away!" Vin said bitterly.

"There's a saying in Ecclesiastes, Vin, that there's a right time for everything. Right now, we gotta help these people first. You know that."

"And find Chris."

Josiah put a hand on Vin's shoulder. "If we haven't found him yet, Buck'd tell you that's a good sign. I'm gonna open up the church and then I'll be back. Some folks ain't had a talk with God in a long time, and they might want to get reintroduced."

Vin watched him go. A good sign? He hoped Buck was right.

* * *

Josiah stepped into the church and sighed. It had been a long night and a long day was sure to follow. He sat down in the pew nearest the door and paused. The words just wouldn't come so he improvised.

"Lord, give us all the strength we need to get through these dark days. Welcome those who have suddenly gone into your Kingdom, and comfort those left behind until they can be reunited again."

He paused again and wiped his eyes.

"And, not to be selfish, Lord, but if you could see your way clear to helping us find our missing friend...well, I'd be mighty obliged. Thanks."

He stood up and turned to light some candles and dig out some prayer books from under the back pew.

* * *

Buck's arms strained as he tried to help control the huge timber. It swung perilously on the improvised crane system the men had put together. JD was nearer the front of the group, pulling when Buck glanced up.

"JD, get back!"

The timber crashed back into the wreckage as the rope holding it suddenly snapped. There was a loud creak that filled the air and then, slowly, the other building finally heaved to one side and toppled onto the wreckage. There was a shout, as a tongue of flame licked up through the wreckage and everyone rushed to put it out.

"Josiah!" shouted Buck. "We need ya here!"

"He's at the church," Vin called back.

"Well, get 'im. We need 'is mucle here!"

With a nod, Vin turned and limped up the long alley when he noticed some wadded up cloth discarded in his path. He stopped to look at it, then bent to get a closer look. He picked up the dusty, torn shirt and held it gingerly. There was blood on it. It looked like one that belonged to...Chris?

He would show it to Josiah to make sure, he thought, as he straightened up. He looked up the alley again. It looked like...more clothing? Moving a little faster this time, he retrieved what looked to be an undershirt, also torn, dirty, and a little bloody.

Both items had the unmistakable stink of smoke in them. He almost didn't dare hope they belonged to his missing friend as he hurried toward the church.

He found Josiah in near the church entrance. A few candles had been lit there, and Josiah was dusting off a couple of well-worn prayer books.

"Josiah! They need ya back there. And I found this!" He held up the wadded cloth. The big man looked at him and gently took the dirty rags from him. "Do you think they belong to Chris?"

At that moment, there was a soft moan from the front of the church. The two looked at each other and stopped at the forward pew, staring in surprise.

A more welcome sight never met Vin's eyes.

"Chris!"

Chris was a mess. There was blood on his face, particularly around his eyes, and he was barely hanging on to consciousness. His hands looked somewhat burned and blistered, and his right arm didn't look too good either. But what worried Vin most was Chris's raspy struggle to breathe.

Vin glanced up at Josiah. "Why didn't you _tell_ me he was here?"

"Well, I–"

Chris broke into a fit of coughing, his knees drawing in as he tried to get a breath.

Vin looked at Chris grimly. "We'd best get Nathan."

"First let's get 'im off this bench. Help me carry him into my room."

* * *

Nathan finished setting and wrapping Chris's broken arm.

By now, the others had taken a few minutes from their rescue duties to gather at the church, too. Chris wasn't just their friend, he was their comrade – a fellow peacekeeper who would've been in there digging with the rest of them had circumstances been otherwise.

"Why are his hands wrapped? They burned that bad?" asked JD.

"No," Nathan replied quietly. "They're blistered up pretty good, though. That's just for protection. Just like the bandage over that one eye. Them cuts are mighty close. Flyin' glass, I 'spect."

"So how bad IS he?" demanded Buck at last.

Nathan looked at him. "You can hear for yo'self that his breathin's bad. Got some bumps on his head I'm worried about more, though. He's been coming in and outta consciousness, and I'm hopin' he don't go into a coma."

"So what do we do?"

"Don't know how much we _can_ do. Don't know how long it'll last. Every time he wakes up, though, I'd suggest tryin' to get some water or some kinda food into 'im."

Chris gave a hoarse, barely audible moan.

Vin looked at him, his mouth pressed in a grim line. He moved over to a window, looking down the street, noting the hole in the landscape where the buildings had been and the billowing plume of smoke still hovering high in the air.

"I want whoever did this."

"That goes for all of us," agreed Buck.

JD looked around at the circle of anxious faces. "So where do we start?"

"How 'bout with the governor? You wanna come with me?

"Buck...no offense, but...How about if we clean up a little first?"

* * *

Buck and JD were stopped in the hall, just outside the governor's hotel room by a short, burly-looking man in a suit.

"We'd like to speak to the governor," Buck began. "Name's Buck Wilmington. We're the law in this town."

The guard looked at JD doubtfully. "The governor isn't seeing anyone right now. His personal physician is with him."

"How is he?" asked JD.

"The territorial governor has some burns and a broken leg, but nothing that wouldn't heal, given enough time."

Buck was growing impatient. "We _would_ like to speak with him. We're the law in this town."

The man was unimpressed. "Oh, really. Where the hell were you when all this was going on? Don't you know it's Armageddon out there?"

Buck took a step closer when JD slipped between them. Just then, another man came out of the room.

"How is he, Doc?" asked the burly guard.

"He's resting." He looked at the two men in the hall. "Are these men wanting to see him?"

"Lawmen," the guard snorted.

"I see. If it's all right, you can see him for a few minutes. He needs his rest." The doctor hesitated, suddenly looking a little sad. "Well, I expect I'm probably needed down in the street." He started down the hall, then turned to look at them. "It's terrible, isn't it?" he said in a hushed voice. "Who would do such a thing?"

"We aim to find that out," JD assured him.

"See that you do."

Buck and JD nodded. The doctor's shoulders slumped and he continued down the hall.

* * *

The governor was dressed and laying on the bed, leg propped up and looking more robust than they had expected. Buck secretly wished Chris had looked this good when they found him.

Buck removed his hat and introduced himself and JD.

"Sheriff?" inquired the governor.

"Ah, no, but close enough. We're investigating what happened and we were hoping you might be able to help us out."

"Of course. Terrible, unimaginable thing. Since it looks like I may be here another few days, my personal assistant is wiring my wife right now before she gets wind of this. You know how women worry."

"Indeed I do," Buck smiled. His smile vanished quickly as he got back to the matter at hand. "We think it mighta been deliberate."

"You mean you think someone was after me?"

"It's a good bet. We were hoping you might be able to offer a few clues–"

Just then, the door opened and a somber-faced, young man entered.

"Ah, this is my secretary," said the governor. "Yes, Phillips?"

The young man cleared his throat. "Just got a wire, sir."

The governor sighed. "More bad news, I take it. Well, go ahead. These men are the local law enforcement."

"One of the territorial outposts was bombed last night. A small one at–" he glanced at the paper in his hand. "Benton's Grove."

"It was WHAT?" The governor sat bolt upright. He winced and put a hand to his head. "How bad?"

"Some casualties. It's a small company, there, only a few soldiers, so it's not as bad as it could have been."

"Tell that to their widows." The governor leaned tiredly back against the pillows "So he really did it."

Buck leaned forward. "Who? You know who did this?"

"I know who I _suspect_ did this," the governor said carefully. "A renegade secessionist. I've heard rumblings about him, but I was assured they were just the ravings of a madman." He managed a wan smile. "You hear from them often in politics."

"No doubt," Buck agreed. "Does this 'madman' have a name?"

"Layton. Ben Layton."

JD shook his head. "Never heard of 'im."

"All I know is that he claims to head some small group known as 'Los Caidos'—The Fallen. There've been rumors he was behind an attack on a supply subdepot several months back, and two mysterious fire bombings of newspapers that have supported my bid for Arizona statehood. Most of it's been property damage–until now. But he's determined to fight statehood any way he can." He shook his head sadly. "I guess he found a new way–terrorizing people into voting against it."

"Meaning no disrespect, but if you know who he is, why don't you just send some marshals or some troops after him?" suggested JD.

"It's not that simple. For one, I don't have any direct evidence linking Layton to anything. He recruits lackeys to do it for him. Second, no one seems to know where he is." The governor dropped his voice slightly. "Besides, it could be a political nightmare. Ben Layton has his supporters, too. Extremists like himself, all over the territory. I don't want to resurrect the Civil War."

Buck nodded. "Seems to me, though, that some kinda war's begun, right here in town."

"I know, gentlemen. I know. That's all the information I have right now. But I'm open to solutions if you have them."

The governor closed his eyes for a moment. Phillips took a step forward.

"Perhaps you should leave now. The governor is supposed to be resting."

Buck stood reluctantly. "Come on, JD."

"Gentlemen," the governor called out. "If I or my administration can help your town in the wake of this tragedy, let Phillips here know."

"We appreciate that," said JD as he preceded Buck out into the hall.

Buck turned for one last look at the man on the bed, a fire blazing in his dark blue eyes. "We'll find him. If we have to turn over every rock in Hell—we'll find 'im."

* * *

Waking up was becoming the same each time. There were disconnected sounds that had no real meaning, followed almost immediately by the ever-present headache made worse by the gradually-increasing light. If it weren't for the burning pain in his throat and lungs, he would have thought he was trying to breathe underwater. His arm throbbed, and his hands hurt, too.

Gentle hands would lift his aching head and a spoon of cool water would be pressed against his mouth. Somewhere between spoonfuls, the water would be replaced by some warm soup. Chris drank all that was offered. The hands would insist until he either choked or drifted into oblivion again. Those hands would be there, too, when the coughing fits came, causing his whole body to curl up into a ball as he tried to draw a breath.

Other times, he couldn't be sure if he _was_ awake. There were fire and screaming, heat and smoke, and Chris would struggle to get to the screaming voices to save them, even as he wasn't sure just who he was trying to save–even as the same hands that had fed and comforted him now restrained him until he was too weak and exhausted to continue the fight.

* * *

Buck and JD left the hotel and quickly turned into an alley alongside the building.

"Did you hear THAT?" JD exclaimed in a hushed voice. "They bombed an outpost, too! What's goin' on, Buck?"

"War, son," he said simply. "You find the others and tell 'em to meet at the church. I'm gonna go warn Mary."

* * *

Ezra was finally taking a break from the digging, stretcher bearing, bandaging and whatever other emergency services had been required of him. He chose a spot on the boardwalk halfway down the street to get the image of the smoking wreckage out of his face for awhile. Wearily, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed a drink was what he needed. It was what everyone needed.

He watched as some of the women continued to supply water and food to the men. Some had taken in the wounded to tend in their own homes. His eye paused on a familiar, cotton-skirted backside. He smiled slightly in appreciation before she straightened and turned to him, fixing him with a smile.

"Señor Ezra! I am glad to see you are well." Inez glanced at his bandaged forearm, and corrected herself. "Mostly well." She offered him a ladleful of water. "You know...it crossed my mind...The people, they will need a place to meet and talk and to drown their sorrows. And that will take a lot of drowning."

"What?"

She looked at him thoughtfully. "You have run a saloon before, no? I think...it would be very nice if you would reopen the Standish Tavern."

He shook his head. "Inez, that's a nice thought but I can't–"

"Why not? I'm sure your mother would help."

"My mother. Inez, I don't–"

"She says so in this wire."

Ezra gaped at her. "She–You wired my mother?"

Inez shrugged. "You would have if you had time. You had...other things to do."

Ezra swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked at her. "Inez..."

"Si?"

"I–I'm glad you weren't working in the saloon when–"

"–EZRA!" JD came up to him, breathless. "Buck says to meet him at the church."

"Now?"

JD nodded. "Now. Seen Nathan?"

Ezra pointed down the street and JD took off at a run.

"Inez–" He began, trying to finish his earlier thought.

"I know," she said gently. "You had better hurry. You are needed elsewhere."

* * *

"Warn me?" Mary echoed, as she straightened from her printing press.

Buck nodded. "The governor said that this Ben Layton fella may have attacked two other newspapers that support his bid for statehood."

Mary paused to consider this. "What would you suggest I do?"

"Well, ma'am, perhaps you oughta take Billy back east for awhile."

"This isn't the first time I've been warned to take my son and run away."

"I remember hearin' 'bout that. No offense, ma'am, but...Maybe it would be a good idea to listen to one of us for once."

"It wasn't just Mr. Larabee." She walked over to the desk and produced a neatly penned letter. "This was delivered the day before the saloon was attacked," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I had no idea what it meant at the time. I–I guess I do now."

Buck read the contents. "...'American colonialism in the Republic of Texas'–He's got a real bone to pick over Texas... 'cannot allow the Arizona Territory to fall under the same Godless tyranny'– ...Writes like Ezra, he does. 'The misguided pagan followers will soon suffer God's wrath'... " Buck shook his head, folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "It ain't exactly a confession. Any idea where it came from?"

She shook her head. "No. A man delivered it. I didn't pay much attention at the time. By the time I opened it, he'd disappeared. But he was tall…not as tall as you, though. And a bit older. He wore a tan leather coat with big pockets, and–Shady Hollow!"

"Ma'am?"

"The man who delivered this had a newspaper sticking out of his pocket. From Shady Hollow. I remember because Shady Hollow is a very small, very quiet town. I didn't think they even had a paper any more. Where did you say the outpost was that was attacked?"

"Benton's Grove."

Mary thought carefully. "Benton's Grove is a straight line from here and Shady Hollow. Shady Hollow falls right between."

"I'd best head over to the church. The others are gonna meet there, since that's where Chris is."

"How is Mr. Larabee?"

"He's holdin' his own. You know what a fighter Chris is." Buck abruptly changed the subject. "What's this? A special edition of the paper?"

"No," she said softly. "It's the list and descriptions of the missing...and the dead." She paused, as if to collect herself. "This is my home, too, Mr. Wilmington and I'm not leaving. If I give up the fight for what I believe, I'm doing just what people like him want."

Buck nodded. "I understand. "I'd best go," he added hastily, his eyes suddenly burning.

As the door closed behind him, Mary let her own tears fall unchecked.

* * *

Vin shifted his bandaged leg and straightened up in his chair. Chris appeared to be stirring again.

Vin had spelled Josiah's watch long enough to know when Chris was unconscious or just asleep. Nightmares would get the blond man thrashing all over the bed, threatening to further damage his broken arm. Vin had considered lashing Chris to the bed when he started to fight, but decided it wouldn't have helped. Instead he did his best to soothe the injured man until he quieted.

It bothered Vin that restraining Chris was getting easier. It meant his friend was getting weaker. Vin doubted he'd gotten enough water and soup into him to keep away dehydration and starvation, but it was better than nothing, and Chris hadn't awakened all that often or for very long.

Vin looked up as Ezra walked in.

"Is Mr. Wilmington here? JD said to meet them here."

"Nobody yet. Ezra, can you keep an eye on him while I step outside an' get some air?"

"By all means."

Ezra watched Vin limp out the door before sitting down. He looked at the unconscious man on the bed and leaned forward.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he whispered. "That hand...That...It was just for a free drink, y'see? You were just supposed to get me a free drink and that's all. I would've played the next hand straight. I'm sure I would have." Ezra paused. "I'm sure I would." But there was no conviction in his voice.

Ezra leaned back to study the unconscious man. His eyes roamed over the bandaged arm and hands. Chris should have been with him and Vin. He would have been close to the door like they were and could have escaped injury. But he wasn't and now he was paying for that.

Ezra looked up, startled, as Vin came back into the small room.

"The others are on their way." Vin noticed Chris's slight movement on the bed and quickly picked up a bowl of water and a spoon on a small table. "Hold his head for me, he's comin' around again."

Ezra moved quickly to help. Chris was conscious long enough for only a couple of spoonfuls, then drifted off again. Vin put the items back on the table with a frustrated sigh and shook his head.

"Y'know, Ezra," he said softly, "he kinda reminds me of when I was a kid. I found this baby bird once. The mama bird was gone, dead I guess, and I took this baby bird home with me. It was so helpless...I kept it warm and I spooned water down its tiny throat. I kept an eye on it all the time..."

"And what happened?"

Vin shifted uncomfortably. "It died."

Just then, Nathan arrived. With a brief nod of greeting, he turned his attention immediately to Chris.

"How is he?" he asked.

"Woke up a little bit ago."

"Not for long, though," added Ezra.

Nathan checked each bandage carefully. "Get any water in 'im?"

Vin shrugged. "Not much."

"Better'n nothing."

Vin nodded in understanding. If Chris fell completely into a coma, he could dehydrate or starve in a matter of days. All of them were keenly aware that Chris's lapses in and out of consciousness were a mixed blessing.

Buck, JD and finally Josiah arrived, squeezing into Josiah's tiny room.

"I'll get right to it," said Buck. "JD and I just talked with the governor. He thinks a fella named Ben Layton is behind this."

Ezra rose slowly from his chair. "Ben Layton?"

"You know 'im? Maybe you oughta fill us in, Ezra," suggested Josiah.

"Gentlemen, have you never heard of Los Caídos?" Ezra looked at them in surprise and sat down again, pausing to light a cheroot. "Ben Layton is one of several sons of a very wealthy and prominent South Carolina family. And like any good Southern son, he fought in the war for the Confederacy."

"Now wait a minute," interrupted Buck. "He's got a problem over Texas, not South Carolina."

"I'm getting to that. The rest of the Layton family fled their plantation and rebuilt. Started a very successful cattle ranching concern in Texas." He paused again to blow out a puff of smoke. "They're a very religious family, but rumor has it the family patriarch's influence was felt far beyond the property line of his ranch. At least until Texas became a state."

Nathan frowned thoughtfully. "Ain't that Layton fella dead?"

"The father? Yes. Yes, he is. The children all inherited sizable sums, including him. The oldest brother runs the family business now. Ben Layton was a hot head. His behavior after Lincoln's assassination, well...let's just say it wasn't appropriate and drew a lot of federal...'attention.' The rest of the family disowned him."

"So then what?" asked JD "Took his money and disappeared?"

"If only. No, he's one of those Southerners who's still trying to fight the War Between the States. It's Southerners like him who give the rest of us a bad name."

"The governor said Layton wants to prevent Arizona statehood."

"What he wants," Ezra corrected him, "is a Republic of Arizona."

"With himself as President, I bet," added Vin.

Ezra nodded. "And he's using his sizable inheritance to fund his efforts and hire a small band of loyal extremist followers. If he is behind this, and I wouldn't be at all surprised, catching him won't be easy. He's very elusive, I assure you."

"Well, we got someplace to start," said Buck, reaching into his pocket. "This letter was delivered to Mary." The letter was passed around the room. "The man who delivered it may have come from Shady Hollow."

"Shady Hollow?" echoed JD.

Josiah handed the letter back to Buck. "We probably oughta talk to the sheriff there, too."

Chris suddenly moaned softly.

Ezra looked at Chris, then around the room at everyone else. "If we're going to go after him and Los Caidos, who's going to look after him?

"And let's not forget the town needs us, too," Nathan pointed out.

Vin looked at Chris thoughtfully.

"The way I figure it, between trying to catch whoever did this and helping to rebuild the town, we ain't gonna have much time to devote to takin' care of Chris," said Vin. "I already talked to Nettie, and she's willing to look after him."

"Good idea."

"So who's going to go?" asked JD.

"I am," replied Mary coolly, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

"Now just wait a minute–" Buck began.

"You need someone who can identify the man who delivered the letter. You'll never find him with only a description."

"Mary, we don't even know he's there."

She was unfazed. "You won't know at all without me, and you know it."

Buck looked at her. "You really oughta listen to one of us sometime."

"Perhaps later," she smiled.

* * *

The next day was bright and clear as the buckboard pulled up in front of Nettie's. Vin waited until Nathan stopped the wagon completely before he climbed clumsily out of it. His leg still bothered him but he could tell it was improving.

"I'll let Nettie know we're here while you and JD get Chris."

He disappeared inside as JD and Nathan carefully maneuvered the makeshift stretcher out of the wagon.

"Keep it level, JD."

"I know, I know. I got him."

The two carried Chris inside.

"Put him in Casey's bed in there," said Nettie. "She'll bunk with me while he's here." She smiled at JD. "Casey's out back."

Nathan and JD carefully transferred Chris to the small bed. Once Chris was settled, JD quickly stepped outside. Vin watched him go, then turned to Nettie.

"We're much obliged that yer doin' this."

Nettie waved him off. "Least I can do. Everyone's pitching in any way they can. It's just awful, what happened. How're you?"

Vin managed a smile. "Leg's doin' better, thanks. Be right as rain in no time."

"You're goin' after that Layton fellow?"

"How'd you know about that?"  


"It's in the paper. Casey got the special edition this morning."

"Figures," Vin muttered. "Don't that woman ever sleep?" He should have expected it, though. Mary sure wasn't one to waste time with a hot story. And this was definitely it.

"It's a terrible thing." Nettie repeated. She nodded at Chris. "Now, what do you need us to do for him?"

Nathan knelt beside the unconscious man. Carefully, he removed the wrappings around Chris's hands. He examined each hand, then removed the bandage around Chris's head that still covered one eye.

"He ain't awake for long," Vin replied, concern evident in his voice. "And he don't wake up all that often. When he does, he needs as much water or soup or whatever kinda liquids you can get into him. It ain't been much, but it's been keepin' 'im alive so far."

"Looks like the burns and cuts are doin' pretty well, but I'd watch 'em for infection," Nathan added. "If he gets any worse at all, you come git me right away."

Nettie nodded. "I'm fixin' some potato soup. That should help." Her keen eyes moved from Chris to Vin. "This isn't just about bringing a criminal to justice. It's personal for you boys, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, it surely is."

* * *

Josiah flopped into a chair outside the hotel. Between burying the dead, and comforting the injured and bereaved, every bone, muscle and sinew now screamed for sleep. It was a good strategy, he mused. Work yourself to exhaustion so that you _had_ to sleep. He was sure sleep wouldn't come any other way. Chris has been taken to Nettie's so at least Josiah now had a bed to rest in. He could've used a drink, too.

He looked down the block as the gaping hole where the saloon and two other buildings had stood. The space was now filled in by piles of charred rubble that were only slowly and painstakingly being cleared away. Josiah was thankful to have been too busy to really let the realization hit him yet, and he was dreading the moment when it did.

His gaze wandered to the young man approaching him, covered in dust and dirt and looking as if he hadn't slept in a couple of days. He probably hadn't.

"Ezra, you look like I feel."

The con artist shrugged wearily. "I know that isn't a compliment, but right now I'm too tired to compose the appropriate witty and insightful retort," replied Ezra as he lowered himself into a nearby chair.

"Just statin' a fact. Have the others left for Shady Hollow yet?"

"Not to my knowledge. I don't believe they've returned from Miz Wells'."

Josiah leaned back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Didn't you once refer to her as a 'wizened crone'?"

"An unfortunate and hasty choice of words, I assure you. I'm relieved she and her niece have agreed to take on the responsibility of Chris's care."

"Nathan's gonna have a lot to do," Josiah agreed. "A lot of folks have taken in some of the injured."

"I heard from Mr. Dunne that a couple of doctors have wired that they're on their way."

"Godspeed, then." He paused in thought. "Sure could use a drink."

Ezra looked at him sharply. "Do you mean that? You know...Inez approached me about...reopening my tavern."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Ezra sighed and looked at his dirty, rough-worn hands. "I don't know. There's so much to do, so much that needs rebuilding. It seems kind of...selfish, in a way. Exploiting a tragic situation." He turned to Josiah again. "Yes, I've been known to be...exploitive...but not–"

"Not something like this, I know." Josiah reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Ain't healthy for folks to do nothing but mourn. They gotta show this Los Caidos that folks haven't been terrorized into doing nothing. That they haven't won. It's important now."

"If I did re-open..." Ezra began carefully. "And I'm not saying I will, but...Would you patronize such an establishment this time?"

Josiah grinned teasingly. "You'd be the only game in town, wouldn't you?"

"Interesting choice of words."

* * *

Chris awoke slowly. Light stabbed into his brain, forcing him to close his eyes to mere slits. Dimly, he could make out a white-haired woman near his bed. He frowned, trying to collect his scrambled thoughts. Where was he? And who was this? He could only vaguely remember such a woman keeping a vigil by his bedside, but that had been a long time ago...Still...

"Ma?" His voice was hoarse from injury and disuse, and barely audible, but the woman heard him anyway. She leaned toward him but said nothing. Chris wasn't sure if she was real. He took a deeper, rattling breath and tried again. "Ma?"

"Yes, dear," she said softly, a cool hand stroking his face gently. Her hand slipped behind his head and a spoon of warm, thick liquid was pressed to his mouth. He could smell food, and it smelled good. He drank it hungrily, then tried to speak again as she dipped the spoon into a bowl nearby.

"Am I sick?" he croaked.

She smiled. "You'll be fine."

"I–I missed you." He didn't know why he said it. He only knew that he hadn't seen her in a very long time. He tried to grasp her hand, but there was no strength in the gesture. He struggled to get another breath before saying "I love you." The effort drained him and he closed his eyes again.

"I know, son," was the last thing he heard, and he smiled before slipping back into unconsciousness.

* * *

JD drove back to town, Vin beside him, while Nathan grabbed a desperately-needed nap in the back.

Nathan had been pushing himself beyond human endurance. They would all be grateful when more doctors finally arrived in town to help.

* * *

Buck tossed the folded newspaper on Mary's desk.

"Maybe you'd like to explain this to me."

"It's a special edition," Mary replied calmly.

"Special edition?! Do you realize what you've done?"

"Yes, I think I do. I told the people what's going on. They have a right to know, you know."

"Don't hand me that!" Buck began to pace. "We don't know for sure about this Layton guy yet. Hell, we don't know anything!" He stopped to look at her, trying to get himself back under control. "How could you do this?" he pleaded.

Mary's own ire started to rise. "The people–" she looked pointedly at Buck, "–and I mean the ones who _built_ this town–deserve some answers." She stood, her temper and her voice rising another notch. "We've been attacked out of the blue for no reason, our citizens hurt or killed, our buildings destroyed, and we have a right to know as much as we can about who did this and why. It's my job to tell the people what I know." She folded her arms, and raised one eyebrow. "And it's yours to see that something is done about it."

Buck took a step towards her, his voice dangerously quiet. "I'll tell you what I don't want to have to do about it. I _don't_ want to have to worry about riots and lynch mobs and God knows what else because you decided who should know what and when."

Mary opened her mouth to retort when sounds of shouting could be heard outside. Buck glanced at her and strode out the door.

People were crowding the streets, waving the Clarion and shouting.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"I say we get this Ben Layton guy!"

"What're _you_ men gettin' paid for?"

"Let's get a posse together and head for Shady Hollow!"

"Yeah, let's blow 'em all to hell!"

Somewhere in the midst of the unruly mob, Buck could just make out Josiah and Ezra, trying vainly to respond to everyone's anger and outrage. He pushed his way through the crush of people, trying to get to them.

"Gentlemen–" Ezra was saying. "If you'll just calm down, we can talk about this–"

"–Time for talkin's past!" came a shout, followed by choruses of "Yeah!"

"Now, let's everybody just quiet down–" Josiah said.

"Don't hand us any o' that 'turn the other cheek', preacher!" shouted another. "My brother died in that saloon!"

Buck had almost reached Josiah when a shot was fired and everyone froze and turned as one to look. Nearby, Vin was standing in the buckboard, his gun in both hands and pointed up in the air. JD had his hands on his guns, as did Nathan.

"Now that's enough!" Vin shouted. Buck, Josiah and Ezra moved to join their colleagues.

"We want some justice!" said one man. "What the hell we got you seven for if Layton can get away with something like this?"

"Nobody's gettin' away with nothin'. And nobody's goin' to any town to blow folks all to hell. Now we got a job to do..." He looked around at everyone. "And we're gonna do it."

"Yeah? Just what ARE you gonna do?"

Buck smiled. "You boys been huntin'. You know how it goes. We find those who did it, smoke 'em out of their holes, get 'em runnin' and bring 'em to justice."

Nathan spoke up then. "We all got enough to do in this town. We gotta take care of the injured, finish identifyin' and buryin' the dead–" His voice caught as he continued. "We gotta comfort the widows and the children. That's what we need to do."

"Still gotta clear out the debris," Josiah chimed in. "And rebuild the saloon."

JD nodded, looking at the crowd. "That oughta keep most of the men in this town busy."

"By my watch, it's getting close to dinnertime," added Ezra. "I recommend you men fortify yourselves for the work ahead and leave law enforcement to us. If we require assistance, I assure you, we'll ask for volunteers."

Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed in all directions. The peacekeepers could still feel the restlessness, anger and fear all around them as they moved closer together to talk.

"Shall we retire to the jail to discuss our plans?" Ezra suggested.

The others nodded and headed inside.

"Good thing we come along out there," said JD.

Buck leaned back in the chair and put up his feet. "I had everything under control," he replied. Josiah and Ezra shot him a look but said nothing.

Vin sat on the desk. "So who wants to go talk to the sheriff at Shady Hollow? Nathan, Josiah, you got enough to do here."

"For a fact," Josiah agreed.

Vin looked around the room, his eyes lighting on JD. He pitied the kid. JD had been through the wringer, too young to be picking up charred or bloody bodies and trying to identify the dead, but he'd handled the task manfully. People always underestimated him, Vin thought, and this was one of those times.

"JD? How 'bout you?"

"I'm on it!" he said, relief evident in his eyes. "Buck?"

"I'm with ya. You realize," Buck reminded them all, "that Mary is coming along with us?"

There was a collective groan.

"Ain't like we got much choice," said Vin. "Ezra, you wanna go?"

"No. No, I think some of us should stay here to quell any further mob action should it arise." Ezra glanced at Josiah before continuing. "Besides, the town will be needing a saloon and I thought..." The others were silent. "Well, I thought...Inez suggested...Since I'd done it before..."

"It's a good idea, Ezra," said Nathan softly. "Folks need somewhere to go. Standish Tavern?"

"Thanks. But, um, no. I was thinking something like...The Phoenix."

"Up from the ashes," nodded Josiah in understanding.

JD smiled encouragingly. "Good choice!"

Ezra shifted uncomfortably. "How'd it go with Chris?"

Vin rubbed his face tiredly. "He's at Nettie's now. She and Casey'll look after him."

Josiah studied him. "You okay?"

Vin sighed. "Just tired. Tired of watchin' people suffer. Tired of watchin' someone I care about slowly starve to death." Vin shook his head. "He's alive anyway."

"Which," added Buck in a low voice, "is more than Ben Layton's gonna be when I get my hands on him."

Josiah squeezed his shoulder. "Just leave enough pieces for the rest of us."

* * *

In Buck's opinion, it had been more days than he cared to count before they were finally ready to leave for Shady Hollow. Now that the fires were out and Chris's care had been arranged, it was time to–as Josiah liked to put it–"get some bad guys."

"I'm ready," said Mary, as she joined Vin, JD, Nathan and Buck outside the jail.

Buck tilted back his hat with a sigh and put his hands on his hips. "I really wish you wasn't goin'. It's just not safe."

"Nowhere is safe," she pointed out simply.

"Ya'll take care, now," Nathan told them. "And wire if you need anythin'."

Vin put his foot in his stirrup. "Let's get going." He started to mount up, when his face contorted in pain and he dropped back down.

"It's that leg, ain't it?" said Nathan, hurrying to help him. "Tryin' to do too much too soon. You best give that another day at least."

"No," Vin argued as Nathan lowered him into a chair.

Buck interjected. "Vin, it's a long ride out there and there's already me and JD–and Mary–and we're just goin' to ask some questions. Do like Nathan says and if we need you, we'll wire."

Vin rubbed his leg. "Yeah, well, if you find Layton, don't you start the party without me."

"We won't."

Vin watched them go with reluctance. He hated sitting around when there was so much to be done. Hell, he could at least help Ezra or Josiah. His eyes scanned the street, noticing Casey driving a buckboard out of town toward Nettie's. He smiled.

* * *

They had been riding for hours in relative silence, their thoughts on the mission that lay ahead and the devastation that lay behind them. Most conversation had been short, and kept to small talk. As they neared Shady Hollow, though, each could feel the responsibility of getting some answers weighing more heavily.

"We'll be there soon," said Buck at last. He turned to look at Mary. "So what do you know about this town?"

"Shady Hollow? Not much. It's a small town. I never hear much about it, except they got a new sheriff a while back, and since then, things have been pretty quiet. I've heard it's the safest town in the territory."

"Then maybe we're on a wild goose chase," said JD. "Why would someone like Ben Layton be there?"

"Well, I'd like to see it. I never hear any news about the place." She paused to think. "You know, I don't think Orrin's ever been there."

Buck's eyes narrowed. "No trials?"

"Well, how can you have trials when you don't have any crime? That's the rumor, anyway. If it's true, I'd like to see it."

"You and me both."

* * *

Chris awoke slowly. Sounds that were jumbled before began to take shape into something recognizable. His blinding headache had lessened considerably to a dull throb. His lungs ached as if he'd run very far for a very long time, but at least he was breathing.

He opened his eyes slowly, until the dazzling white light finally faded into the brightness of midday and he could finally see his surroundings.

He was in a strange bed. He turned his head to look around.

In a strange house.

Something else didn't seem quite right and, with a weak and trembling hand, he lifted the sheets slightly.

And he was naked.

Except for the bandage around his right forearm. He frowned at it, trying to put the whole scene together. There had been hands tending him in a dream, giving him water, and at one point, an old woman. His mother? No, that couldn't be right. But who was the old woman and where was she? For that matter, where was he now and how had he gotten here? Why was he here? And where were his clothes?

Chris reached up and rubbed his head, as if to lift the fog in his brain. All he could remember was pain and...fire. His heart began to beat a little faster and his breathing quickened as he fought an inexplicable sense of panic. His mind kept telling him he had to get up, that someone needed him. All he knew was the urgency, even as he weakly pushed back the sheet.

* * *

Vin climbed carefully out of the buckboard. One more episode like the one in town and Nathan would see to it Vin rested even if he had to be tied down.

He watched in mild surprise as Casey hurried past him and into the house. She'd been acting oddly all the way here, refusing to look him in the eye. He'd try to talk to her, but she'd kept her responses short.

Nettie was already at the door as he stepped up on to the porch.

"How's that leg?"

"Fine," he said. "How's he doin'?"

"Still with us. You wanna see 'im?"

"In a moment. Say, what's wrong with Casey? She barely spoke to me all the way here."

Nettie laughed. "I imagine she's still a mite embarrassed from earlier." She looked at Vin pointedly. "Mr. Larabee's previous caretakers neglected to bathe him."

"So...you and Casey...?"

Nettie smiled. "I had her help me. It doesn't do a girl her age any harm to know what a man looks like under his clothes."

Vin smiled, then abruptly frowned. "What's that under your eye? Somebody hit ya?"

Nettie waved him off. "He got to thrashin' and it was an accident."

"I'm real sorry."

"No need. He didn't mean to. Doesn't even know it happened. Now, why don't you just forget about that and come inside."

"Well, all the same, since Nathan's got me under house arrest anyway, I might as well help ya with 'im."

Nettie took his arm. "Well, that'd be nice...."

Any further discussion was cut off as a loud thud was heard from inside followed by a shout.

"Aunt Nettie!"

Vin and Nettie hurried to Casey's room. Chris was lying on the floor, dazed, one fist still clutching the sheet.

"He was tryin' to get outta bed," the girl added. "I came in just in time to see 'im fall."

"Help me get him back in," said Nettie to Vin. "Watch his arm. Casey, you go heat up some food for Mr. Larabee, now he's awake."

"I'm all..." Chris blinked hard and gasped, his previous exertion preventing him from finished the sentence. "V-Vin...I..."

"Sure you are, cowboy," murmured Vin. He noted that Chris felt like a thin sack of bones in his arms. Despite his own injury, he easily maneuvered the man back into the bed and sat beside him.

"Wh...what...," Chris began.

Vin knew what Chris was asking. What happened. He looked up and his eyes met Nettie's. Should he tell him?

"You had an accident," Vin lied, his throat constricting.

How could he begin to explain what had happened in town? Chris would only want to be involved and he didn't have the strength for it. The truth would have to wait, that was all. Vin just had to trust that, when the time came, Chris would understand his decision.

"...A...a fire..."

"Fire's out."

"Any...body....hurt?"

"Everything's fine, Chris," Vin said softly. "You just take it easy, huh?" Chris's eyelids closed slowly as exhaustion finally took over.

* * *

"Well, let's get some rooms at the hotel, and then see the sheriff first thing in the morning," said Buck as he, JD, and Mary rode into town in the early evening. "I could use a drink, too, and maybe–" He stopped in mid-sentence.

The streets of Shady Hollow were eerily quiet. There was no one. Anywhere.

"Where is everybody?" asked JD.

Buck's eyes scanned the length of the street. "Shhh! Listen!"

It was faint but they all heard it, and it seemed to be coming from a church at the end of town.

"Singing?" JD frowned. "It's not Sunday."

Mary was equally puzzled. "Could it be a wedding or a funeral perhaps?"

Buck snorted. "Whoever he was, he had to be damn popular. Even the saloon's closed."

The singing had stopped and slowly, people were filling the streets. The three watched as, within minutes, the street was full of the normal bustle of everyday life in a frontier town.

Buck shrugged and continued toward the hotel.

"'Scuze me," he said to the desk clerk. "We've just arrived in your nice town, and we were wondering who the poor soul was that you all were grieving over?"

The clerk looked confused. "Poor s–why, nobody. Everyone was just at church is all."

"At church? On a weekday? Might I ask why?"

"It's the law."

"The law?" JD echoed.

"In this town it is. They take attendance. You'll find Shady Hollow is a very Christian town."

"Must be," Buck muttered.

Mary got down to business. "Do you have some rooms available?"

"Yes, I do. Two very nice ones. Now, which of you gentlemen is this lady's husband? Because I can't give her a room by herself."

"Why not?" asked Buck.

The clerk straightened haughtily. "Sir, we are not that kind of town. Here, a lady is expected to either be traveling with her husband or with a male relative."

"That the law, too?"

"You may scoff if you like but this is a moral town with laws for the good of all. Now if you don't like it, perhaps you should just be on your way to the next town. I'm sure they–"

"–I'm her husband."

Mary looked at Buck in surprise but said nothing as the clerk eyed him suspiciously. Buck took her hand in both of his.

"Yes, the little lady and I have been together for some very happy years now. Got a coupla fine boys at home, don't we, honey?"

"Um...yes," said Mary at last, when she could find her voice. She forced a smile at the clerk.

"Oh, yes?" The clerk was still uncertain. His eyes narrowed. "What are their names?"

"Billy," replied Mary, "and...and..."

"Chris." Buck smiled and squeezed her hand tenderly. "Now, can we have them rooms?"

The door had barely closed when Mary spoke.

"What was all that down there?"

"Now, Mary, calm down. It ain't that bad."

"Look, Buck Wilmington, if you think–"

"Let's just make the best of this. JD and I'll bunk together during the night and then early in the morning before anyone wakes up, we'll just switch rooms."

Mary calmed down but remained ill at ease. "This is a very peculiar town," she said at last.

JD agreed. "And we only just got here."

"Well, here's hopin' we don't have to stay too long," added Buck.

* * *

Ezra looked over the new location for his saloon. Satisfied, he pulled over a small packing box and sat down on it, watching the sunset. He had never pulled anything together so fast in his life. It wasn't like the first Standish Tavern. Nothing would ever be like that. But he had managed to rent an unused store and so far had improvised or bartered for all the rest.

"You openin' for business, soon?" asked a hopeful Josiah.

Ezra nodded. "My mother is the senior partner in this operation and some funds should be forthcoming from her."

"Won't be a minute too soon."

* * *

Nathan had made all his rounds for another day and now he dropped exhausted into his bed.

So many people to see. Most of the injured were being tended by their families. Many of the rest had been taken in by people all over town.

It helped, having real doctors in town, but it just seemed like there was never enough of anything–medicine, bandages, painkillers, hope. He had hoped to learn from the other doctors, but he was almost too busy for that and his rounds took him far afield. He was disappointed, but he tried to learn what he could. It was more important to go help where he was needed.

He had heard Chris was awake a little more often, and was even lucid. Now if Vin and Nettie could just get his strength up, it'd be one less person to worry about.

He yawned, thinking how good a drink was going to taste once Ezra got his saloon open.

* * *

"Rise an' shine, cowboy. Breakfast."

Chris groaned softly as his stomach lurched at the thought of food, but then contracted painfully with hunger. Vin helped him to sit up and grinned as he sat beside him on the bed.

"Oatmeal."

Chris shot him a look, frowned, and reached to take the spoon. Vin hesitated, noticing the weak, shaking hand and shook his head.

"Just relax and let me do it."

The blond responded by turning his face to the wall.

"Yeah, I know," said Vin softly. "And I don't blame ya, but this is no time for pride, Chris. The town..." His voice caught. "The town needs you right now, and the only way for you to get strong enough to be any help to the rest of us is to eat."

"What..."

"After you've eaten," Vin replied firmly.

Chris closed his eyes and nodded slightly. Vin filled the spoon and brought it to Chris's mouth. At least this time, the patient Vin was feeding wasn't going to die on him.

* * *

Morning rose on Shady Hollow. By outward appearances, it seemed a very normal town. Strangely quiet, but for the most part, normal.

Buck, JD and Mary had finished breakfast and were now on the street, looking around.

"Do you notice anything?" Mary asked softly.

"Well," Buck drawled, "I was noticin' there ain't a lot of ladies in this town, but..."

Mary shook her head. "There's not one woman alone on the street. The few you can see are all with a man. Only men are driving carriages or wagons, too."

Buck and JD looked around them.

"Sorry, Mary," said Buck. "I didn't notice that."

"You would if you were a woman."

JD shrugged. "Well, it's an odd town, all right, but shouldn't we be seein' the sheriff so we get out of here?"

Buck felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. "And the sooner, the better."

* * *

Buck stood before the sheriff's desk. It was occupied by a bored-looking young deputy with his feet up.

"Name's Wilmington. Where's the sheriff?"

"Sheriff Harley's just makin' 'rounds. Oughta be back soon."

"He doesn't have much to do, does he?" Mary smiled.

The young deputy's eyes narrowed. "You'd be surprised how many lawbreakers a town can have. And the sheriff, he don't put up with nothin'."

Mary looked slightly taken aback. "I just thought–in a town like this–"

The deputy smiled at Buck and JD and winked. "Ain't that just like a woman. Thinkin'."

Mary opened her mouth to reply when, with a quick "'scuze us," Buck quickly shuttled her out the door and onto the sidewalk. Buck released her quickly as she stood there, shaking with rage.

"Did-did you hear that-that-_boy_-? How dare he–!"

"I know, I know! Now calm down. We're in a strange town–"

"–we certainly are!–"

"–and the last thing we need is any trouble. Just quiet down now."

With an effort, Mary calmed herself enough at last to say "While you gentlemen are waiting for the sheriff, I'll go have a talk with the newspaper editor. He may have some information."  
  
Buck nodded and Mary started down the street. She hadn't gone far when she was stopped by a man blocking her path.  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am? Where do you think you're goin'?"  
  
She looked at him. He wasn't a lawman from what she could tell.  
  
"Why, I'm just going to–"  
  
"–no, you're not. Ladies in this town don't go anywhere without the proper escort. You get your husband or your daddy, a man in the family, to take you where you want to go."  
  
"And if I don't?"  
  
The man shrugged. "In this town, unescorted ladies get jailed for bein'...sportin' women. You want that? Bet your husband wouldn't like it. And how d'ya think your kids 'd take to the idea of their momma in jail?"  
  
Mary forced a smile. "Why can't you escort me? I'm just going to the newspaper office right down there. You can see it from here."  
  
"No, ma'am. Wouldn't be right. I ain't kin and the law's the law."  
  
Mary swallowed hard, feeling like the forced smile tighten. "My...husband...is right over there. He's not far."  
  
The man would not be swayed. "Then you just march yourself right back to 'im before I make a citizen's arrest. It's the duty of the men in this town."  
  
"It's quite a town you have," she said tartly as she turned to rejoin Buck.  
  
The sarcasm was lost on him.  
  
"_We_ like it."

* * *

Vin hovered in and out of wakefulness as he watched Chris sleep. It had taken a long time before Chris had fallen asleep in the first place and now Vin was also drained. As expected, Chris had taken the news hard about what had happened in town. But there was something more. Before being told, Chris had only vague memories of a fire. As Vin filled in the details, many of the memories seemed to suddenly hit Chris full-force while others were still frustratingly at bay. He didn't remember crawling out of the debris or getting to the church, and Vin wondered what kind of emotional healing Chris was going to need once his physical healing was done.

The sharpshooter's heart wrenched as he watched Chris start to move restlessly, twisting weakly in the sweat-dampened sheets. Another nightmare. He could understand that. Ever since the attack, he had startled awake himself, sweating and breathing hard, his heart thudding against his ribs. Vin sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to decide which was worse: the nightmares that haunted their sleep or the one they faced during the day.

* * *

Ezra looked around him with satisfaction. His saloon was ready to open. It was makeshift in every sense of the word, from the empty building he'd been able to rent–negotiating a cut-rate price, of course–to the furnishings, spirits and other supplies he'd managed to accumulate by barter or credit from other towns in just a matter of days.

"We're not open just yet," he said over his shoulder as he heard someone enter from the building from behind.

"I know," said a familiar voice. "But I want to be your first customer, friend."

"Josiah...How goes...things?" Ezra couldn't find another way to say it. Josiah had said a lot of last rites and a lot of funerals over the past few days. It was probably more than the man ever expected to do in a year or more.

"Fine, Ezra. Thank you for askin'. Things are starting to quiet down so we can get back to the matter at hand."

Ezra nodded. "Heard from Buck or JD?"

Josiah shook his head. "No, but if we're needed, I'm sure we will."

* * *

To make it easier for Mary to move around Shady Hollow unchallenged, the three travelers decided that JD was Buck's brother and Mary's brother-in-law. While Buck roamed the town, still hoping to encounter the sheriff, Mary and JD headed back toward the newspaper office.

Mary paused to look at the sign overhead. "Who's the editor?" she wondered aloud. "There's no name on the sign..."

JD shrugged. "Why not ask him?" He put his hand on the doorknob, trying to turn it. "Locked." He turned to a man walking past with his wife. "Excuse me...Where's the newspaper editor?"

The man looked him up and down before answering. "We don't need one," he said simply. "The town patriarch is responsible for the paper. Mr. Layton."

"Layton!" Mary echoed. "He's the newspaper editor?" She looked at the man's wife for some kind of response, but she looked away as if she hadn't heard.

The man glanced at Mary, then directed his response to JD. "We don't need an editor. The last one printed only propaganda and lies...bad news. Who needs that? Mr. Layton owns it now and he prints only the truth." He looked pointedly at Mary, then took his wife's arm again. "_We_ like it."

JD and Mary watched them go.

"Is that all anyone says in this town?" she demanded in frustration.

"At least we know Layton's here."

"But _where_?"

* * *

JD and Mary turned to see a ruckus coming toward them and the sheriff's office.

"I didn't do anything!" shouted a voice. "I demand a lawyer! Let GO o' me!"

JD groaned. "Buck. What could he possibly have done in just a few short hours here?"

"Let's find out."

The small crowd accompanying the sheriff quickly dispersed as the two entered the jail. Inside were the sheriff, the deputy, and the hotel desk clerk. Buck was already in a cell and fuming.

"What the hell's the matter with this town?" Buck demanded. "All I did was–"

"We know what you did, Mister," said the sheriff calmly, "and it's illegal here."

Buck stared in outrage and disbelief. "Just talkin' to a woman is illegal?"

"No. Adultery is illegal. And from what I seen with my own eyes, you was doin' just a little bit more than talkin'."

"Adultery! I didn't know she was married!"

The sheriff shook his head in disgust. "Not her. YOU."

"ME?! But I'm not–" He stopped himself as realization hit.

"That's her, Sheriff," the desk clerk interrupted, pointing at Mary. "That's his wife right there." He squinted at Buck. "They have two boys, too. Billy and...Chris, I think it was. Why, they'd be ashamed..!"

"I know, I know," said the sheriff. "You did what any good citizen would have done, and we're all grateful."

The clerk nodded, satisfied. He gave Buck one last glare and then left. Buck heaved an aggravated sigh. The sheriff merely looked at him.

"I'm surprised at you, tryin' to spoon with a local girl when you got a right nice wife with you an' all." He nodded at Mary. "Sorry, ma'am."

"What's his bail?" Mary asked quickly.

The sheriff shook his head. "Ain't none. Ma'am, we don't bother with such things in Shady Hollow. Just gives a man a chance to run out on justice and not face up to his responsibility. We settle things our own way here."

"And how's that?" asked JD.

"For adultery? Ten lashes."

Buck's jaw dropped. "LASHES? What do you think this is, the Navy? You think we're on a ship or somethin'?"

The sheriff turned to him. "I'd hush if I was you. You're in enough trouble. All you have to do is take your punishment like a man."

Mary took a step forward. "This is ridiculous! I'm his...wife...and I'm not pressing any charges."

"No offense, ma'am, but it ain't up to you," replied the sheriff.

"Surely–" Mary persisted.

"Ma'am, leave runnin' our town to our menfolk, all right?" He turned back to Buck. "If you paid as much attention to your wife as you do to other women, maybe she'd know better than to sass a man. You'd best talk to her about that before she gets herself in trouble in this town, too."

Buck looked at her. "Mary? Shut up."

Mary's jaw snapped shut in quiet fury and Sheriff Harley seemed satisfied with that. "Now, I got other work to do. Mr. Layton will be here later to witness that justice is carried out."

"Mr. Layton?" asked JD.

Harley nodded. "As the head of the town council, that's his right."

Mary moved closer to JD, lowering her voice. "Is there anything around here he's _not_ in charge of?"

JD whispered back. "I think it's time we sent a wire back home."

* * *

  
Mary paced her room anxiously, waiting for JD to return. He had escorted her back to the hotel, before setting off in search of the telegraph office. There seemed to be just too many ways to get in trouble in this town–especially if you were a woman. 

A soft knock sounded at the door, followed by JD's soft voice. "Mary?"

She quickly let him in, trying not to show how truly relieved she was to see him. "Well?"

He took a deep breath. "There's no telegraph in this town."

"Of course there is!"

"There _was_. There isn't any more."

Mary sat down on the bed, taking this latest news in.

JD continued. "Layton's managed to isolate the whole town. It's not on a stage line or near a railroad, and now the telegraph..."

"...and the newspaper," Mary added, in a hollow voice. "JD, somehow we _have_ to bring Orrin into this! What they're doing to Buck is against the Constitution! It's cruel and unusual punishment!"

JD shrugged sadly. "What's 'cruel?' There's some would say hanging is 'cruel.' I know what you're saying, Mary, but this town has the right to make their own laws, and that's what's got Buck in trouble."

"Are you suggesting we do nothing?"

"No. No, I'm not. I think someone needs to go back home in the morning and let the others know what's happening here."

"'Someone' meaning me, I suppose."

"Mary, you know yourself this ain't no place for a woman. Buck wouldn't be–" He stopped abruptly, not wanting to finish the statement.

"You can say it, JD," she said quietly. "He wouldn't be in trouble if it weren't for my being here."

JD sighed. "No. No, Buck would be in trouble. But you wouldn't be involved in it." He looked at her, his hazel eyes pleading. "Go home and get the others. I hate to make you go by yourself, but–"

"I've done it before," she smiled. They both recalled the sheriff who'd been hired, replacing the seven, and her long ride to Purgatorio to retrieve Chris when the new sheriff hadn't lasted long.

"Thanks. I'll see if there's anything I can do for Buck here."

* * *

It had now been days since the attack on the town. Josiah welcomed the dawn of this day. The funerals and burials had slowed as those who'd lingered finally went to their eternal rewards. Now the prayers were for the survivors–almost all of them widows, children, and mothers.

He was happy to give up the funerary tasks and help tend the injured and rebuild lost buildings. There was just something more hopeful about that. It made him feel useful to hold bandages or a hammer, than a prayer book or a Bible.

This morning's patient still looked ghastly pale and far too thin, but he was sitting up in bed for short stretches. Josiah and Nathan had come out a long way to see him, and expected him to be on his feet very soon. Their patient expected it even sooner.

"Now, Chris, just keep doin' what I tol' you," Nathan admonished. "'Cept you gotta keep it down. You keep throwin' up like that, and you'll stay right here, on your backside."

Chris closed his eyes wearily. "I feel fine."

"Yeah, you look it," said Josiah without conviction.

Vin watched the two gang up on Chris. He understood it was because they cared, but there was more going on than they knew. Chris slept fitfully, when he slept at all, and usually awoke in terror. Sometimes it was all Vin, Nettie or Casey could do to keep him from trying to rescue invisible victims from a fire only Chris could see. Other times, Chris seemed distant, as if he didn't care at all. It frustrated Vin, who never knew what to expect from him from hour to hour.

"He's tryin', Nathan," Vin said gently. "You don't need t' tell 'im he's weaker'n he oughta be. I see 'im more'n you an' I can tell you: he's tryin' hard to get out of that bed and help out."

Chris wanted to remind them he was still in the room, but instead chose to keep his eyes and his mouth closed. He hated seeing the concern in their faces. He was fine. He was just a little weak. That wouldn't last, though. He wouldn't let it. But all this talk about his health was starting to bother him. He opened his eyes at last.

"Where's Ezra and JD? And Buck?"

* * *

Buck stared out the small window of his cell. He could see the small platform, and he could see the crossbars where a man would be tied. Where _he_ would be tied. He turned away and sat on the cot in his cell. He hated to admit it, even to himself...but he was scared.

He'd seen men whipped before, and knew it hurt like the Devil. He hoped–no, prayed–that he wouldn't disgrace himself during his punishment and that he would take it like a man. It was all so...crazy. Hell, he'd only been kissing that woman. He wondered what they'd have done to him if he had been in bed with her and shuddered as a sudden coldness swept through his body. He didn't want to dwell on that.

JD had tried desperately to help. Buck knew he'd tried to send a wire, then tried talking to the sheriff and to members of the town council, all to no avail.

"C'mon, Wilmington," said the sheriff. "Mr. Layton's here, so let's get this over with. Then you can go back to your missus." He said the last with a sharp look at Buck.

* * *

Buck looked around him as he was led to the platform. One of these people was Layton and Buck wanted to make sure he got a good look before he was in too much pain to notice anything.

He saw JD standing near the platform, a look of concern and sorrow on his youthful face. Mary was nowhere to be seen, and Buck was thankful for all their sakes.

And then he saw the man who had to be Ben Layton.

Layton himself would not have stood out in a crowd, Buck thought. In fact, he was the most average-looking man Buck could have imagined. He wore a black suit like a preacher's; however, unlike a preacher's, it had obviously been expensively tailored. Layton was sitting in a four-passenger surrey, watching the gathering crowd.

The sheriff and a deputy removed Buck's shirt and tied him to the crossbeam as Layton stood to address the crowd of onlookers.

"My fellow citizens, you see before you an example of what we no longer face within our own community. Lust! Debauchery! Sin!"

"This town ain't no fun at all," Buck muttered sarcastically.

"Our ladies of all ages are safe in our community," Layton continued. "Thanks to MY protection, we've cleansed the bad element from this town. Shady Hollow is a community of law-abiding, God-fearing men! Others–like this man here–an ADULTERER–can learn from our example. What we do here today is not punishment. It is a benevolence! He will take this lesson back to his family and his community! We are doing this to help strengthen his marriage and even his soul! We are the community–and someday the republic–of the future!"

JD looked around him uncomfortably as others enthusiastically applauded.

Layton bowed his head. "Now let us pray before we begin. Preacher, would you lead us?"

"Don't I get t' have MY say?" Buck demanded.

The sheriff punched him sharply in the side, knocking the wind of out him. "Mr. Layton's done all the speakin' that's needed."

The crowd of mostly men was deathly silent as the preacher concluded a short prayer. But as the whip first connected with Buck's skin, the crowd burst into loud cheers.

Buck kept his eyes locked on JD's as he fought for control. By the fifth cut, his back was on fire, as if it'd been criss-crossed with a red-hot poker. His knees trembled but he held on, refusing to satisfy the bloodlust of the crowd. At the ninth cut, he could no longer hold back and cried out as his body convulsed in complete agony. One more. There was just one more.

At the last crack of the whip, his knees gave out and he hung limply, every shuddering breath sending white-hot shards of pain up and down his body. He barely noticed as he was untied.

"His sentence has been carried out," Buck heard the sheriff say. "Take 'im back to his hotel. The doc and his brother can tend 'im."

* * *

JD was still gently sponging the bloody welts on Buck's back when a there was a soft knock at the hotel room door.

"Doc Bailey," said the white-haired man brusquely. "Sheriff sent me."

JD opened the door wider to let him in. Buck lay sprawled on his stomach on the bed, naked to the waist, his eyes closed.

"Doc here's going to take a look at you," JD told him.

Buck groaned softly, as the doc put on his glasses and examined the wounds. Then he opened his black bag and set to work.

JD watched. "You do this kind of thing often?"

"Oh, sometimes," Bailey replied. "When a man gets himself into trouble."

"Quite a town you got here," Buck hissed through gritted teeth.

"It's not the town, my friend. Oh, no. You wouldn't understand, you being strangers."

"Then explain it to us," prompted JD.

The doc spoke as he continued to tend to Buck.

"You don't know what this town was like before. Most dangerous place on earth, some folks said. For a long time, we didn't even have a sheriff. Couldn't get one. Couldn't get an honest one. Sure couldn't keep one. It was a shame, too. We had families coming here who wanted to stay here. Wanted to build a life here."

"Then along comes Ben Layton," said Buck.

"Yes sir, he did. He was a godsend. Poured a lot of money into this town. Things were rough at first, folks were dealt with a might harsh, but it was necessary for the good of everyone. And it worked, too. Shady Hollow can be a mighty nice place–if you follow the rules."

Buck gasped in pain as the doc touched a particularly raw spot. "With so many rules and laws? With whippings? You really believe that?"

The doc paused a long time before answering. "It doesn't matter what I believe. I'm telling you how it is. He's the town patriarch, and they owe him a great deal."

"He's a dangerous man is what he is," muttered JD. "He attacked our town and the territorial governor."

Bailey turned to look at him. "Now you watch your mouth, son. That kind of talk can get a man buried around here. Especially if you don't have one hell of a lot of proof." He listened a moment, then lowered his voice. "Layton has more influence around here than you know. No one says a word against him, even if they want to. _No one._"

"Does he live around here?" asked JD.

Bailey looked at him over his glasses. "I reckon so. No one really knows. He disappears into the landscape and takes his men with him. A few men have tried to follow...but they never came back." He packed his bag, stood, and looked at JD again. "You look like a smart young fella. In a couple of days, you should be able to get your friend here on a horse and get out of town." He stopped at the door. "And try to stay out of trouble. I'd hate to have to come back."

"No offense, doc," said Buck from the bed. "But we don't want ya to have to come back, either."

* * *

Ezra smiled from behind the bar. Business at The Phoenix had been brisk since its opening. The Phoenix had none of the trappings of his last venture but it seemed to do even better just after its opening.

Ezra watched with pleasure the ebb and flow of patrons eager for a drink and a place to relax and talk. The windows looked out onto the empty space where the old saloon had stood, but Ezra and Inez had wisely hung small curtains to block the depressing view.

"Inez, I'm going to deposit some of these receipts into the bank," he said. "I'll be right back."

He hadn't gotten far down the alley, when three large men surrounded him. One, wearing a long, tan coat, was about Josiah's height but stockier. The second wore a long-sleeved shirt and leather vest, and the third was shorter than them both. He had a pronounced gap in his teeth and wore a short brown jacket.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen," Ezra drawled, wearing his most solicitous grin.

The reply was short and to the point: a fist driven sharply into his midsection. Ezra doubled over, trying to draw air and resisting the sudden urge to vomit.

"Southerners," spat Tan Coat as Ezra was knocked off his feet. "Layton's a southerner. How do we know you ain't one of his men?"

"Got a nice little saloon business started mighty fast," added Leather Vest. "Damned lucky, if you ask me."

Gap Tooth knelt beside him and slowly drew a knife from his boot. "Maybe you knew all along what was gonna happen...Lost a good friend of ours in the fire..."

"Gentlemen," Ezra gasped, "I assure you–" A boot connected sharply with his back and he gasped again, this time in pain.

"That's enough!" The three men turned to stare as Josiah stepped into the alley behind them.

"Ain't enough!" shouted Tan Coat. "Ain't never enough. Folks DIED because o' Southern trash like him! He oughta go back t' where he came from!"

"The man said that's enough," drawled another voice. Vin stepped into the alley facing Ezra and Josiah. "Now you boys move on."

"You gonna let this go?" Gap Tooth said furiously. "What happens when he and his kind blow up more buildings? Maybe you won't be happy till they blow up the schoolhouse or the church!"

Vin eyed them coldly. "If you're done, you can get t' movin' on. He had nothin' to do with it, and y'all know it. We'll get the men who attacked the town, but it won't be this way. Now get goin'."

The three hesitated.

"Now," said Josiah, in a dangerously low voice.

Josiah reached down to help Ezra to his feet. "You all right?"

"Yes, thank you. The fortuitous entrance of yourself and Mr. Tanner was impeccably timed."

Vin shrugged. "Yeah, well, I was lookin' for you, anyway."

"Oh?" Ezra glanced at him curiously as he slapped the street dust off his jacket.

"I'm goin' to Shady Hollow. Mary tells me Buck's got himself in some trouble there."

"What kinda trouble?" asked Josiah.

Vin shrugged. "You know Buck. Wanna come along?"

"Sounds to me like a good idea," said Josiah, nodding at Ezra. "Get out of town for awhile till things cool off. You go, Ezra. Nathan and I can look after things here. Someone has to. And if you want, I'll help Inez look after The Phoenix for you."

Ezra looked at him carefully, then smiled. "Well, if you promise not to be too hard on the inventory, I suppose I can stand to be out of this contentious atmosphere for a few days. When do we leave?"

Vin nodded. "Right now."

* * *

Chris sat up, his body bathed in sweat. Another nightmare invading his sleep. God, how he hated to sleep. He hated everything about the condition he found himself in. Vin and Nathan had told him what had happened to him–an explosion and a fire–but he was sure they weren't telling him everything. He could tell by their faces.

And where were Buck and JD? He hadn't seen them at all since he'd awakened at Nettie's. Were they dead? But if they were, why wouldn't Vin or Nathan tell him?

Chris could smell food cooking in the kitchen and his stomach rumbled painfully. He wanted to eat. He knew he needed to, but the end result was always the same. Very little stayed down, and the lingering weakness that resulted was frustrating.

Unconsciously his fists clenched as one thought pounded in his brain: He had to try.

* * *

Buck groaned softly as he tried to shift into a comfortable position. By now he was convinced there was just no such thing anymore.

"Feelin' any better?" asked Vin.

"Yeah. Feels like the bonfire in my back's eased some."

Ezra eyed Buck. "Was she worth it?"

Buck smiled, despite the pain. "They're always worth it. Never forget that."

JD shook his head at that comment. His friend definitely had a different set of priorities than he did.

Vin eyed Buck with a wry smile. "Was she at least pretty?"

"I'm getting too predictable," muttered Buck. "And since when it is a crime to kiss a pretty girl?"

"Apparently since you arrived in Shady Hollow," Ezra replied calmly. "I take it you haven't made much progress finding Ben Layton?"

"We know he's here. And we've seen him," said JD.

"That's a plus," said Ezra dryly. "Anything else? Like where we might find him?"

JD glanced at the floor. "No."

Ezra looked at them both in surprise. "You've been here for a few days now, and all you've managed to do is for Mr. Wilmington here to get himself into a predicament."

"Oh, we'll get 'im," said Buck grimly. "I wouldn't think of leavin' without stoppin' t' say a proper good-bye to him."

Something in his tone sent a shiver up JD's spine. He inspected the long, bloody welts that crisscrossed the man's back. "The doc did a good job. Looks like everything's healing pretty good."

Buck sat up slowly. "That's music to my ears 'cause I can't get out of this town fast enough to suit me."

Vin stood up. "I'm going to go see the sheriff myself then."

"And I'll pay a visit to the saloon...to see what information I can uncover, of course," added Ezra.

The other men looked at him skeptically.

"What?"

* * *

For Chris, every waking moment seemed like a struggle. He fought to keep food down, and wished he could find a way to keep the horrific images that flashed through his mind at bay. He felt a sense of accomplishment, though, now that he was able to sit up. He had tried to stand, but each time, his legs would begin to tremble and he would have to sit down again, taking care to check his fall with his broken arm.

Still, some progress was better than none. It just couldn't seem to come fast enough.

* * *

Vin stepped out of the hotel and into the streets of Shady Hollow. This place gave him an eerie feeling. It was quiet–unusually so. Where was everyone? Must be in church, he reasoned. Buck and JD had mentioned that.

The quiet didn't last long. As if in response, people began to slowly fill the streets again. Suddenly a man appeared—a deputy—half-dragging an older man with a bruised face and torn shirt along with him.

"You were supposed to be at church, John Red Wolf. You know the law. When're you heathen injuns gonna learn?"

"Please," the man gasped, as he was hauled down the street. "My boy's sick–My wife needed help–"

"Won't wash." The deputy grinned. With one hand, he cruelly grabbed the man's hair, and peered into his face. "You done been told afore," he hissed. "Now you got t' pay."

"No!" The man pleaded, struggling to get away.

Vin could see the fear and panic in the man's eyes and, after seeing what they'd done to Buck, he didn't even want to know what was in store for this man. He stepped into the deputy's path.

"The man said his boy's sick. This ain't justice. This is abuse."

"You a lawyer? Then outta my way. This ain't no concern o' your'n."

"Much obliged, but I'll decide that for myself." Vin launched himself at the deputy. As he did, the older man twisted from the deputy's grasp, pushed his way into the gaping crowd and disappeared.

Vin was on one knee with the deputy in a headlock when he heard a click and felt cold metal pressed against his neck. His gun was pulled from its holster as he reluctantly released his hold.

"That's enough," said another man. "You're so all-fired fond of injuns, you can take 'is place."

* * *

Ezra had found himself a choice spot in the saloon where he could see and be seen. Oddest saloon he'd recollected seeing, he mused. There were none of what Buck liked to call "fancy ladies," for one thing. There were card tables but no one was gambling. And worst of all, the liquor was watered down until it was almost clear. He paid for a drink anyway and sat down, surveying the room. Where to begin his great dramatic rendering? He loosened his clothes and dabbed a little of the whiskey behind his ears.

"A toast!" he shouted, hoping he looked just slightly drunk as he raised his glass. "To the South! May she rise again!" He took a swig, idly wondering just how much of this 'liquor' it would really take to get drunk in this town.

The others in the room looked at him, puzzled for a moment, but it didn't escape Ezra's notice that some joined him in his boisterous toast.

"Gentlemen," he continued, "I am delighted to be visiting your good, wholesome community. In the brief time I've been here, I have found it makes me pine–pine, I say–for the glory of my old homestead...Before those loathsome Yankees defiled it. But to find God-fearing people like yourselves among all sorts of heathens and malcontents in this part of the country...I am rendered speechless to find words to describe how much like home Shady Hollow is." He pulled a hankie from his pocket and dabbed at one eye, then raised his glass again. "To Shady Hollow!"

Two men looked at him with growing interest as they moved away from the bar, towards him.

"Mind if we join ya? Name's Carlisle." He nodded at his friend. "This is Lewis. Veterans of the Confederacy. Both from Amarillo."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." He looked at them both. "Well! Imagine finding two such fine Southern gents such as yourselves out in this godforsaken territory." He pulled out his flask, and filled their glasses. "Allow me to share with you a robust liquor of my own personal stock. Another toast. To Texas! May God in his mercy restore her to the fine republic she once was!"

"Didn't get your name?"

Ezra smiled genially as the two men quickly finished their drinks. "Edward Stratton. From Georgia." He refilled their glasses, then sipped at his own. "Oh, not lately, of course. The town I live in now, well, it's not far from here but it's certainly become a rather lively place all of a sudden."

"Oh?"

"Indeed." Ezra leaned toward them and lowered his voice. "Would you believe that someone actually tried to kill the territorial governor there?" Carlisle exclaimed, and Lewis looked equally surprised. 'Good thing they don't play poker in this town,' he thought wryly. "But unfortunately, whoever it was failed."

"Why 'unfortunately?'"

"My good man, you of all people should see the writing on the veritable wall! It's just a matter of time before the Arizona Territory goes the way of a Texas. Annexation! And then what?" Ezra looked at them both intently.

"What?"

"Why, we've lost! All this fine country becomes under the jurisdiction of the Yankees!" He leaned back and sipped his drink again. "That's why this governor must be stopped. I don't know who was behind the attempt but, if he'd succeeded, he'd be a hero in my eyes. He just went about it all wrong."

Lewis looked at him, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah? What would you have done?"

"I'd hire myself a professional assassin. Not waste time with amateurs. Someone who'll do the job effectively in the first attempt. That's efficiency, gentleman."

Carlisle grinned at Ezra. " You know someone like that, do ya?"

"As a matter of fact..." Ezra leaned closer and again lowered his voice. "I might."

Carlisle's smile faded, as he looked thoughtfully at Ezra. "Supposin'–now just supposin'–Lewis and me could hook you up with someone who might know somethin' about what happened in your town? He's a man believes in the same things as you and me. Solid Southern stock, too. Now...who'd you have in mind?"

"You fellows ever hear of the notorious gunslinger, Chris Larabee?"

Lewis gaped in awe. "Larabee? You know him?"

Carlisle looked doubtful. "What's a fella like you doin' with a dangerous man like him? You hold his bullets for 'im or somethin'?"

Ezra tried to ignore the insult. "He's a friend. A very GOOD, personal friend."

Carlisle's voice took on a serious tone. "Lewis an' me, we work for a rich man in these parts. He'd pay a lot for a man like Larabee."

"Where shall I bring him?"

"You can send 'im to the hotel. Someone will contact him."

"He won't come without me. He's particular about the jobs he takes – and he trusts me. If I bring him, I'll expect some...remuneration for my efforts."

"Fine," said Carlisle impatiently. "You bring 'im to the hotel, and there'll be some of that, and some cash, too."

"Even better," smiled Ezra.

* * *

Vin sat in his cell, watching a tiny spider slowly work its way across the floor. Vin wasn't sorry for intervening on behalf of the Indian. Hell, he'd have done it again, given the choice. He just wished they'd tell him what they were going to do to him and get it over with. He glanced up, then stood slowly. His gaze fastened on the sheriff who was seated at his desk, slowly going through a pile of 'wanted' posters. Vin's mouth suddenly felt unusually dry and he watched the sheriff intently. A voice to his left startled him.

"What're you in for?"

Vin hadn't noticed anyone in the next cell when they'd brought him in, but his mind had understandably been elsewhere. The young man now sitting, looking at him curiously had probably been cocooned under a blanket. Tan and sandy-haired, he looked to be a few years younger than Vin; no more than his mid-twenties, for sure.

"Jaywalkin'," Vin replied with a smile.

The young man snorted and rubbed his face with one hand. "If we were anywhere else but in this town...I wouldn't believe you." His tone sobered. "But we _are_ in this town."

"How 'bout you?"

"You won't believe it. I let some stranger kiss my sister."

Vin thought of Buck, and nodded. "Strange as it sounds...I believe you. What do they do to you for that?"

The young man shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind, I guess. We got a lotta rules 'round here, but payin' for 'em...well, that's another story." He nodded at Vin with a teasing grin. "They might lynch you for jaywalkin'."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"HUSH UP IN THERE!"

Their attention was immediately drawn back to the sheriff, who now approached his cell, a poster in hand. The young man immediately curled up on the cot in his cell, and pulled the blanket over his head. Sheriff Harley held the poster at arm's length, near Vin's face. He peered at it through narrowed eyes, comparing the man in the cell to the drawing on the poster.

"Vin Tanner," he read aloud. "Did you know you was wanted for murder?"

"I heard a rumor."

Sheriff Harley frowned. "Best not get smart with me, boy. Says here you're wanted 'dead or alive.' Generally speakin', it's all the same to me, except the dead ones start to smell after a bit–sorta like you do now, so in your case, it really don't make any difference. Looks like you're just gonna have to cool your heels in there awhile longer, till we figure out what to do with you."

"You mean till Ben Layton does."

Harley leaned closer, till his nose was inches from Vin's. "Says 'dead or alive.' Don't make me choose right here and now. You might not like it." That said, Harley picked up his hat and headed out the door.

Vin could guess where he was going. To bring this news to Ben Layton. The young man on the cot didn't move. With a sigh, Vin turned and squatted, reaching down to let the tiny spider crawl on his hand.

"Guess we both know what it feels like to have your fate in someone else's hands," he said to it in a soft, sad whisper.

* * *

JD opened the door, and was nearly knocked over as Ezra rushed into the room.

"Where's Vin," he asked as soon as he entered the room. "There've been some developments."

JD glanced at Buck and said, "Bad news, Ezra. Vin's been arrested. I went to the store and I heard the deputy talkin' about it."

Ezra smiled. "What kind of trouble could Mr. Tanner possibly get himself into in so short a time? Jaywalking?"

Buck's tone was deadly serious. "They know about him being wanted in Texas."

Ezra's smile vanished. "Then we have to move fast. I'm going back for Chris. Layton wants to meet him."

JD's mouth dropped open, as did Buck's. For a moment, he wondered if Ezra was conning him, but something in the man's eyes told him it was true. "How'd you manage that?"

"Well, my, my, Ezra," said Buck in awe. "I'm speechless."

Ezra turned to JD. "I'd suggest you write this day down. We may want to remember it later."

* * *

Nathan was surprised when he thought he saw Ezra ride into town. He stepped into the street and waved, as the con man approached.

"Get Josiah," Ezra said quickly. "Chris and I will meet you at the church. First I need to get bring him his clothes."

"Chris? But he's not in any condition to–" Nathan began, but stopped when he found himself talking to just a cloud of dust as Ezra disappeared.

* * *

Ezra wouldn't have called himself a religious man–he doubted anyone would. But he was praying now, as he approached the Wells ranch.

"Lord," he said to the heavens. "If you can make a miracle happen and have Chris Larabee ambulatory when I arrive, I'm sure I could find some appreciative gesture I could make in recompense." He paused thoughtfully. "As long as it doesn't involve giving away money, of course."

* * *

Chris could hear voices near his bed. He hated to open his eyes, though. He didn't want anyone to know just how weak he really felt.

"Has he been on his feet at all?" The voice was in a half-whisper, but the Southern drawl was unmistakable.

"Weak as a pup." Nettie's voice. "He wouldn't be, if he could keep some food down. He doesn't sleep all that good, either. Wakes up near every night. Sometimes two, three times in a night. It's like he never got out of the fire, poor man."

Chris could hear Ezra approach the bed. He forced his eyes open.

"Now's the time, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said gently, crouched beside him." We need you. Do you think you can make it?"

Chris pushed aside the sheets and sat up.

"Chris...are you able to dress on your own?"

He nodded in reply. Ezra turned his back and started toward the door as Chris struggled to his feet. Slowly he straightened up. Lights danced in front of his eyes and the room spun, but he was standing. And he felt pretty good at his achievement. The moment was short-lived however, as Chris's legs began to tremble uncontrollably. He fought against it, but lost as his knees buckled. Ezra turned to see Chris was sitting on the floor, his legs folded beneath him. He sat there, breathing heavily and trying to corral enough strength to try again.

"On second thought," said Ezra, "I'll assist you."

Finally dressed all the way down to his now hundred-pound gun and rig, Chris cursed softly to himself as Ezra helped him outside and onto his horse. It felt as if he was awkwardly trying to climb a mountain.

"I'll fill you in as we go," said Ezra. "Nathan and Josiah are waiting for us in town."

* * *

The young man in the next cell had been quiet ever since he'd found out Vin was wanted for murder. He lay on the cot, wrapped in a blanket with his back to Vin, but he continued to shift around with increasing restlessness, until finally he spoke again.

"Who'd you kill?"

"I didn't." Vin heard the young man snort in reply. "And here I thought we had a pact to believe each other's word."

There was a short silence, then the young man sat up and looked at him.

"I guess so. Name's Robert. What'll they do to you?"

"You tell me. You know this sheriff or Layton?"

Robert shrugged. "I thought I did. The sheriff, anyway. He wasn't always the mean cuss you've met. Well, not as mean as he is now, anyway. Word is he was...tough, you know? But fair. He was no saint and he wasn't really a lawman officially, but he was better than a lot of sheriffs. Rumor is that his whole family was wiped out by marauding ex-Union soldiers after the war. It changed him. Made him bitter. Guess tragedy changes a lot of folks."

"Guess it does," Vin agreed.

"He changed more when Layton came. This town was mighty wild. We had a town council, but they didn't accomplish much. Ever been to a place called Purgatorio?"

Vin smiled. "Once or twice."

"I was there once and that was plenty. Folks were afraid this town would become another Purgatorio. And then along comes this rich man, willing to really invest in this place–and in the town fathers. Enough money can buy most anything, I suppose. Things settled down quickly after that. The town council passed whatever laws he wanted and now he pretty much controls everything. But it's gone too far, you know? And now it's too late." He looked around him. "That's why I'm here. Hell, my sister is a grown woman and she should be able to kiss whoever she wants." He looked at Vin doubtfully. "Shouldn't she?"

Vin sat on the cot in his cell and leaned back. "Why don't people just leave?"

Robert shook his head. "Nobody moves in and nobody moves out. A few people tried, but they either changed their minds or..."

"Or?"

"Or they disappeared."

* * *

The meeting with Nathan and Josiah had been a short one. The two of them, along with Chris, were updated on everything Ezra knew. Then they discussed a few plans before Chris and Ezra started back to Shady Hollow.

Now Ezra watched Chris from the corner of his eye. With every mile, Chris swayed more in the saddle. They were making slow progress, since Ezra had forced him to stop and rest every so often. Now Ezra looked around him, noting the shade and availability of water. Satisfied, he stopped and dismounted.

"We're not stoppin' again?"

"It's almost nightfall."

"No. No time."

"We're stopping anyway."

Ezra squinted up at him. Chris was bathed in sweat and breathing heavily. Just the effort of staying saddle-bound was taking its toll on the little strength he'd managed to acquire. Ezra watched as Chris reluctantly brought his horse to a halt and started to dismount. He surreptitiously moved closer in case Chris made a sudden descent to the ground. Chris looked even more drained close-up, he noted.

"How's that arm?"

Chris looked at his bandaged arm as if it belonged to someone else. "It's okay."

"I'll get a fire going so we can eat. You sit here, in the shade."

"I don't need you to be a wet nurse, Ezra," he snapped impatiently.

Ezra frowned. "My concern for your welfare has little to do with a compulsion to be a nanny, Mr. Larabee. When we get to Shady Hollow, the physical condition you're in is going to matter very much. "

Chris scowled in reply. He knew Ezra was right. Ben Layton was expecting an assassin who looked like he could do what was required. Right now, Chris didn't know if he would be able to even _lift_ his gun.

He could feel Ezra's eyes on him as he ate, anxious to see if Chris could keep his food down. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out, but he struggled through the meal, washing it down with lukewarm coffee.

"You might as well get some sleep," said Ezra. "We're not leaving until you do."

"We're wasting time," Chris answered gruffly.

"We'll gain it back when we're at Shady Hollow and you're able to stand without falling over."

Chris grudgingly stretched out on the bedroll. Almost instantly, he felt more tired than he ever had in his life. "'Night, nanny," he mumbled.

* * *

JD lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't Buck's snoring that kept him awake. Although he hadn't shown it, JD was still smarting inside from Ezra and Vin's surprise that he and Buck had accomplished little while in Shady Hollow. Tomorrow he would take a walk through town. He didn't know exactly what he would find, but he was determined to find out something to vindicate himself and Buck in their eyes.

* * *

Morning found Vin pacing his cell. He hated being penned up and worse, he hated not knowing what was going to happen to him next, or when.

The sheriff had brought breakfast and it was surprisingly good. It was just too bad he didn't have the appetite to do justice to it. He ate most of it anyway, hoping it would make him sleepy. Now he sat on the cot, wide awake. Robert was sound asleep in the next cell, occasionally mumbling and tossing in his sleep. Lucky bastard, thought Vin enviously.

He sighed at last. This was doing no good. He wasn't going to get any answers sitting here in the dark. He curled up on his side, pulling the threadbare blanket tightly around him, and waited.

* * *

By the time they arrived at Shady Hollow, close to noon, Chris had rallied. Ezra knew he wasn't much stronger, but he was doing his best to look like he was. The con artist said nothing to him but silently admired the man's grit.

They rode silently into the ever-quiet town. Chris's eyes grazed the landscape. He had a feeling about this place. It was too quiet, too serene, too orderly. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

"Let's head for the saloon first," he said suddenly.

"I think we should find the others."

Chris shook his head.

"Okay then, Chris, given the current state of your health–"

"Ezra, I'm tired of trail dust and stale water. I'm goin' t' the saloon. You go wherever you want. The others'll keep."

Ezra clenched his jaw. He knew he couldn't change Chris's mind, and he also knew he should be there in case anything happened to him. 'Like in case the damn fool falls on his rear end,' he thought.

* * *

Tired of sitting, Vin now leaned against the bars, his arms folded.

The door of the jail swung open. A man stood there, a small retinue crowding behind him. Vin instinctively knew who it was. Ben Layton.

He slowly approached the cell, carefully appraising the sharpshooter. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ben Layton." He nodded at the deputy, who quickly opened the cell. Layton stepped in and sat down on the cot. "I'm here to make you an offer, Mr. Tanner. I think you'll respond favorably, given your current...situation."

Layton reached into his jacket and pulled a cigar, offering it to Vin. The sharpshooter merely shook his head. Layton shrugged and lighted it for himself. "I've been informed there's a rather substantial price on your head." He smiled coldly. "The Lord says 'Thou shalt not kill.'"

Vin's eyes narrowed slightly. "And what does the Lord say about killin' a whole bunch of innocent people?"

Layton ignored the question. "Former bounty hunter, buffalo hunter...I imagine you're good with a rifle. And you're a murderer, too."

"Didn't murder no one," Vin said evenly.

Layton smiled. "Of course not. But even if you had a good reason for killing that man, the law doesn't care. The point is..." He took a deep pull on the cigar before slowing blowing out the smoke. "...the bounty is $500 any way you look at it. I happen to be affiliated with an organization known as Los Caidos. They can use a man of your–shall we say–experience."

"Don't 'spoze this is a church group," Vin replied.

Layton smiled. "In a sense, Mr. Tanner. Los Caidos believes in a Christian republic where the law is God's law–the only one that counts. As it says in Ephesians 6, 'Put on the whole armor of God that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the Devil." It goes on, Mr. Tanner. 'For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.'"

"No offense but, since I ain't worried about my eternal soul, what's in it for me?"

"That's a shame. You should be." He drew another puff on his cigar. "You follow instructions, do what you're told, and what's in it for you is protection from the stranglehold of man's law."

Vin shifted slightly, and the corners of his mouth quirked. "So you're sayin' that killin' for you would be legal and okay with God..."

"Extrapolate it any way you like, Mr. Tanner. The offer is yours for the taking. But nothing in this world lasts forever, including offers, and my time is short."

Vin stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Who's to say I wouldn't get a bullet in my back one day from someone in your group who ain't as Christian as you?" Finally, he grinned. "Well, I appreciate it, Mr. Layton, but I think I'll take my chances with the Lord just as I am."

Layton stood up to go, clearly not pleased. He spoke to Vin in a low voice. "You know, Mr. Tanner, this is a very foolish decision you're making. I'll only put the $500 for your carcass into Los Caidos."

"I got a quote for you," Vin called after him. "If ya don't stand up for something, you'll fall for anything." Layton looked at him, puzzled, and Vin smiled with pride. "My ma."

* * *

Ezra and Chris had managed to secure seats at a card table. While gambling was outlawed, the patrons seemed to enjoy playing euchre, but only for the sole privilege of seeing who won.

'What's the point,' Ezra thought bitterly.

Watching Chris, he could see that Chris wasn't so much interested in liquor or cards as he was in getting a feel for the place. He sat stoically at the card table, watching and listening to those around him. The fact that Chris hadn't touched his watered-down beer since they sat down, coupled with how badly he was playing–not to mention his still-bandaged arm–were Ezra's only indications that the man was still recovering from his injuries.

"Yeah," one man was telling the man next to him. "He's in the jail right now. Killed a man in Texas."

That sounded just a little too familiar. Ezra glanced at Chris, who looked coolly at the man across from him, asking "Anybody famous?"

The man thought a moment. "Sanders?"

Ezra hadn't realized he was holding his breath. Then it wasn't Vin.

"Naw, that ain't it, Sam. It was somethin' else. Tanner. And if'n he'd o' minded his own business, he wouldn't be coolin' his heels where he is now."

The one called Sam agreed. "Guess he's in for a neck-stretchin'." The men burst into laughter, as Chris and Ezra quietly got up and left.

"We have to do something about that," Ezra said in a low voice. "This town has its own brand of justice–"

"We will. When it gets dark. Now let's go get Buck and JD."

* * *

JD hadn't taken his eyes off the jail since he saw the small group of men go in. He had barely glimpsed Layton among them, but it was all he needed. He sat across the street, playing with his knife and trying to look like his eyes were anywhere but on the door across the street.

At last, Layton's men came out, followed by Layton himself.

It looked like it was up to him to find out where Layton and his men were hiding. The doc had said that others had tried and had never been heard from again, but that only fueled his resolve. He still wanted to be a Texas Ranger someday, and what better way to start than to track down someone like Ben Layton and bring him to justice?

He waited in the alley until Layton's men had almost disappeared from view, then mounted up and rode after them.

* * *

The ride was a long one. A couple of times JD was sure he'd nearly been spotted. He followed as closely as he dared, afraid of losing sight of Layton and his followers. They seemed in no hurry as they headed out of town and onto some all-but-invisible narrow trails obscured by brush and scrub. He watched the terrain around him carefully, uncertain if he could really find his way back later.

For awhile the trail wound upwards, steeper and steeper. JD was glad to have someone to follow because he was feeling more lost by the minute.

Suddenly the trail pitched sharply downward and turned hard to the left. His horse's footing slipped on loose rock and the animal began to roll to one side. JD grabbed for the saddlehorn but too late. He pitched from the saddle and began to tumble wildly downwards.

Elbows, knees, and hands scraped against rocks and dead trees as he tried vainly to check his fall. He bounced sharply, then there was a blow to his head, a brilliant flash of light, and then darkness.

* * *

The sun had just about set as Chris and Ezra walked calmly down the street. The streets were nearly empty and small fires had already been set to light their way.

They stopped in front of the jail, and Chris sat down on a bench outside. He glanced at Ezra, who nodded, then walked inside carrying a liquor bottle.

The deputy was tipped back in his chair, his mouth open, snoring loudly.

"Deputy!" Ezra shouted, startling him awake. "I wish to make a complaint! This is an OUTRAGE! A man pays his good money, he should get that which he's paid for."

The deputy blinked at him. Ezra waved the bottle indignantly.

"This! Your saloon there is selling–I don't know what–lamp oil? Taste this!"

The deputy looked at him uncertainly. "I'm on duty–"

"–And this is an investigation! You have an OBLIGATION to taste that whiskey!" Ezra snorted derisively. _Alleged_ whiskey..."

It was all the prodding the deputy needed. He tipped the bottle back and took a gulp. "Tastes fine to me," he said at last.

Ezra shook his head. "Your taste buds must have been impaired by all the dust in this town. Taste it again and wash that dust out. You'll see. It's an _outrage_!"

The deputy shrugged and took another gulp.

"Not like that," said Ezra impatiently. "Take a BIG swig. Hold it in your mouth. Swish it around. Inhale the bouquet..."

The deputy followed his instructions, then looked at the bottle thoughtfully. "Now you mention it, it does have a kind of funny aftertaste. Let me try it again..." This time he chugged it down with no encouragement from Ezra.

"See? I told you! You know what we ought to do? We ought to–" Before Ezra could finish, the deputy was flat on his back, on the floor. Ezra studied him a moment, then searched his pockets for the cell key.

"'Bout time, Ezra," said Vin. "What's in that bottle anyway?"

"It's not lamp oil."

Ezra had almost gotten the stubborn lock to work when Chris opened the door. "Sheriff's comin'."

"I've almost got it–"

"No time!"

Ezra gave Vin an apologetic look and quickly returned the key to the deputy's pockets. Chris dragged the deputy behind the desk just as the door swung open.

"What's goin' on here? What's wrong with my deputy?"

Chris sat on the corner of the desk and held up the bottle. "Stinkin' drunk," he said coldly.

Harley looked at the two of them suspiciously, then went to check Vin's cell door. Satisified that it was secure, he walked over to the deputy and rifled his pockets for the key.

"Tol' me he had that problem licked," the sheriff muttered, pocketing the key.

"I'm here to see a man," Chris said. "Maybe you know him. Ben Layton."

"Mr. Layton's an important man, a busy man."

"Never heard of 'im."

"Well, if he wants to see you, he will when he's ready."

Chris replied with a cold smile, "Oh, he wants to see me."

The sheriff squinted at him, unimpressed. "Yeah? And who are you?"

Chris turned to Ezra, who answered for him, trying his best to look like a minion–a role he clearly wasn't born to. "He's Chris Larabee. Mr.Layton is expecting him."

Harley clearly recognized the name. "Chris Larabee? What business do you have with Mr. Layton?"

Chris stood up. "I'd suggest you spend less time talkin' to me and more time letting Mr. Layton know I'm here. Like you said, he's an important man."

Harley hesitated, looking like the last thing he wanted to do was any favors for Chris Larabee.

"Wait for him at the hotel."

* * *

Buck had had dinner sent up to his room and then had dozed off soon after. Buck woke to a soft knock on the door.

He was getting antsy to leave the room, and had argued repeatedly with JD over it. He'd made up his mind he was going outside as of tomorrow and was all prepared to argue with JD over it as he opened the door.

"Chris!" Buck looked at him, surprised and slightly puzzled. He glanced at Ezra as if to say 'what's he doing here'. He looked back at Chris, noting the sudden pallor as Chris's eyes started to roll and his knees began to buckle.

Ezra moved in to help put Chris on the bed. "I think what you're witnessing is the last of Mr. Larabee's strength giving out. He has quite a constitution. Thought he'd keel over hours ago..."

"Yeah, well, not until his supply of 'stubborn' gives out."

"He'd better be able to replenish it quickly. Ben Layton has a meeting with him."

Buck looked at him sharply. "Ezra, I'm not even gonna ask how you managed that. I just know you're behind it."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilmington."

Reassured that Chris was breathing in a steady, even rhythm, Ezra went to secure a second room, while Buck slowly, painfully, settled into an overstuffed chair by the window. He dragged a blanket around himself but couldn't get back to sleep. He looked out onto the darkened street, wondering where JD was. He'd ask Ezra if he'd seen the kid as soon as Ezra returned. He yawned widely and slowly fell into a breathing rhythm that matched Chris's.

* * *

To JD, everything was muffled or fuzzy. And all of it had a panacea of pain around it. His vision cleared slowly. There was a fire nearby and a low hum of voices.

He started to sit up but his head threatened to whirl right off his shoulders. He quickly lay back down, groaning softly with the effort.

"He's awake," someone said. "Barely."

Footsteps coming closer on the soft ground. JD's eyes focused as they followed the legs upward until he saw the face of the man smiling down at him.

Ben Layton.

Through the white agony ripping through his skull, JD could feel his stomach clench. This was the same man who had caused so much devastation, had hurt so many people. Now he was standing right in front of JD, who lay on a blanket on the floor of a small cave. JD carefully, slowly moved a hand to his hip, and was not surprised to find he had been disarmed.

"Good evening, Mr....?"

JD lay his head back and closed his eyes. "Dunne."

"Mr. Dunne. You'll be pleased to know that except for what I'm sure is quite a headache, most of your injuries amount to cuts and bruises. But I should introduce myself. I'm–"

"I know who you are."

Layton smiled. "Yes, I suspect you do." He pulled a small campstool closer to JD. "Which begs the question: why were you following me?"

JD groaned softly, stalling for time. He needed an answer and he needed it fast. If those damned hammers inside his skull would stop, maybe he could think of one. Someone lifted his head and a cup of water was pressed to his lips. He drank slowly, then groaned again as his head was lowered.

Layton looked at JD with interest. "One of my men tells me you're the brother of the adulterer."

"Yeah...well...I'm not my brother's keeper." JD swallowed. "I....I think what you did was right...He needed to be taught a lesson. Does that all the time..."

"And you were following me to tell me that?"

"Yes...No...Not really. Not just that. I want to...to join you."

Layton leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And what do you know about me, Mr. Dunne?"

JD closed his eyes and licked his lips. "I hear things. And if they're true, I want to join."

"Uh-huh. I see. And what asset do you think you can contribute to an organization of mine?"

"Well...I can ride...And I can shoot....And I can fight...and I believe in what you do. About being a good Christian."

Layton stood up. "That's very nice, Mr. Dunne, but–"

JD grabbed for Layton's pants leg and clutched the fabric tightly. "–And I ain't afraid to die for what I believe in!" He fell back again as the world swirled before his eyes.

Layton looked at him sharply. "Very good, Mr. Dunne. Very good, indeed. Few men are, these days. I tried to persuade another young man to ally himself with us, but he refused. You rest. My men will see that you're taken care of. We'll talk again later."

* * *

There was a dull throb behind Chris's eyes but he ignored it as he awakened. Someone had removed his boots and shirt. Buck was snoring gently in a chair by the window, the dawn just past his shoulder. Chris looked slowly around the room, trying to figure out where he was. Hotel?

He frowned, trying to remember what had happened, but it made his head hurt all the more, so he gave up.

There was a soft knock at the door. Buck startled awake, then grimaced at the stiffness in his body.

"Buck...Open the door," whispered a familiar Southern-tinged voice, muffled by the door.

Buck quickly let in Ezra, who was carrying a tray laden with dishes. The smell of a hot breakfast filled the room. Ezra turned to glance at Chris as he carefully set the tray on the bed.

"Ah, I see he's awake."

Chris rubbed his face, tiredly. "What happened?"

"You fainted," said Buck simply.

Chris scoffed. "I didn't faint."

Ezra shrugged. "Have it your own way. But in any case, I brought breakfast for the both of you. I've already had mine," he added, reaching for a piece of toast.

Chris was keenly aware of the two of them watching him eat. He didn't like it but he understood why they would. Ezra had already placed a bucket beside the bed, ignoring Chris's irritated glare. The blond gunman had been like this ever since the explosion and fire, and they all knew it was just a matter of time before the nightmares and appetite problems would cease. The question was how long.

His two friends watched sympathetically as the bucket was put to use, with Chris hung over the side of the bed, holding on with his good arm and struggling to keep down as much of his breakfast as he could.

When he was done, Buck came over with a towel to wipe the sheen of sweat from Chris's forehead and to wipe his mouth, before helping him back into a sitting position on the bed.

Ezra glanced at the contents of the bucket, wrinkling his nose slightly. "You're doing better. I think you managed to hang on to most of it this time."

"Hooray for me," Chris grumbled.

Ezra reached to take his left arm. "Well, let's get you into our room." He glanced at Buck. "It won't do for you to be seen with this...malcontent–"

"–much obliged,Ezra," Buck replied.

"Oh, no offense, I assure you. I ran into one of Layton's men, and he's coming by in a little while to talk to Chris. And we know how Mr. Layton feels about _you_."

"Layton's coming now? Why the hell didn't you say so before?" demanded Chris, as Ezra put Chris's arm around his shoulder to help him into the next room.

"Everything in its proper time, Mr. Larabee."

* * *

Judge Orrin Travis sat in a chair, watching as Nathan carefully changed the dressing on one of his patients.

"Awful tragedy," the Judge was saying. "Things seem to be quieting down at least."

Nathan nodded. "They are. Josiah's 'bout done doin' funerals. Still got a lotta injured folk, though. Some of 'em ain't gonna heal up fo' a long time." He sighed tiredly and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Can you hand me that jar of salve over there? Much obliged."

"How are the others?"

"Vin and Ezra got some burns, and such, like ever'body else. Some bad cuts. Nothin' to worry about."

"I heard Chris was hurt, too."

Nathan nodded again. "Right in the middle of it. He was lucky to get out alive. Arm's broke. Head took a poundin'. I think it affected him pretty bad–same as most of the folks who survived. Nightmares. Not eatin'. Stuff like that."

"Well, Mr. Larabee is a survivor. I trust he'll recover." Travis stood and looked out the window. "I talked to the governor. Any idea about who did this?"

"Some. But I'd rather not say just yet. Most of the others are away, looking into it now."

"How's it going?"

"Don' know yet. Once I'm done checking Miz Suttles, I'm goin' to go join 'em." He turned to the judge with a knowing smile. "Might be needed."

* * *

With Ezra's help, Chris had managed to get cleaned up, shaved and dressed. He was stretched out on the coverlet reading a book. Ezra gazed out the window as he and Buck played a few casual hands of cards.

Ezra straightened. "Looks like him now. He's unmistakable, with that entourage of his."

Buck came around to look over his shoulder. He frowned in surprise. "Is that–? Looks like–"

"It is," said Ezra in surprise. He turned to look at Chris. "JD is among them. They're heading for the saloon and Layton's on his way in here."

Chris looked up sharply. "Looks like this is about to get interestin'. Buck, you'd better get out of here before they see you."

Buck nodded. "I suddenly feel a powerful need for a drink."

* * *

Despite being crowded, Shady Hollow's only saloon was quieter than saloons most anywhere else, except for one corner. In that corner where there was a group of men sitting and standing around a table, most of whom were around JD's age.

Buck could see JD among them, his back turned three quarters away. The young men had already been served and were laughing and talking animatedly.

"So..." continued JD, "he says, 'I'm looking for the man who shot my PAW!'"

Buck winced as the men around JD erupted in raucous laughter. He walked over and stood beside JD.

"Missed your shinin' face around here," he said soberly.

JD looked up at him with a cocky grin. "Oh? Well, I found me some new friends." He grinned at his new companions.

"Oh, and so off you go. Don't say nothin'! We are...FAMILY, boy!"

JD stood up, hands in his vest pockets. "Yeah? Well, maybe I'm sick o' your sinnin' ways! You deserved everything you got, you know that?"

Buck shoved him and JD staggered back a few steps. JD's eyes glittered and he charged forward, his fist connecting with Buck's chin.

To Buck's amazement, he found himself headed for the floor, dropped like a sackful of doorknobs. He got awkwardly to his feet, rubbing his surprisingly sore jaw.

"That how you want it?"

JD glared at him defiantly but said nothing.

"Guess I got my answer then," Buck said in a soft voice, backing away warily. At last he turned and left the saloon, looking for all the world like a kicked hound dog.

JD turned and smiled as his new friends congratulated him enthusiastically. They didn't notice the clenched jaw muscle as he tried to ignore the pain in his knuckles–and in his heart.

* * *

"I was looking for Mr. Larabee," said Layton. "I believe I'm expected?"

"Do come in." Ezra opened the door wider.

Layton nodded to the man who accompanied him to stay outside, then stepped into the room.

"Mr. Larabee, no doubt."

"No doubt," Chris said easily.

"I trust you haven't been kept waiting too long."

"I haven't been kept _waiting_ at all."

Layton's lips quirked. "I'd like to discuss some business." He turned to Ezra.

Chris shrugged. "So? Discuss."

Ben Layton was still looking at Ezra. The con artist drew himself up slightly.

"I believe I need to replenish my cigars." He looked at Layton. "I trust I can find a supplier in this town?"

"One store. End of the street," Layton said. He turned his attention back to Chris. "We don't like to encourage tobacco use in this town. Oh, it's allowed. I indulge a bit myself. It's just not encouraged."

"Admirable," Chris replied, unimpressed. "Now that I'm here, what is it you want?"

Layton drew out a cigar, offering one to Chris who declined. He paused to light it, enjoying a few quick puffs before continuing.

"Your...friend...tells me you're for hire. I have a job that requires a man of your reputation. And character."

"What's it pay?"

Layton smiled. "Right to the point. Efficient. I like that. Don't you even want to know what it entails?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me. But it won't matter till you tell me what it pays."

Layton blew out another puff of smoke. "I'm sure you'll find your compensation more than attractive. And it's for a worthy cause."

"Don't care about that."

"I do, Mr. Larabee. I do very much."

* * *

Ezra lounged outside the hotel, smoking one of his new cigars. In truth, he was waiting for Layton to leave. He really didn't like this town. It was just _too_ orderly, _ style='font-style:italic'>too_ quiet. He could smell the underlying fear that kept the good Christian inhabitants honest.

He watched curiously as Buck ambled across the street towards him from the saloon.

"What happened to your eye? Husband, fiancé, or...?"

Buck slid into a chair nearby. "JD."

Ezra laughed incredulously. "OUR JD?"

"He's joined Los Caidos."

The con artist nearly choked on his cigar. "Well, I'll be..."

Buck nodded. "And so will I."

They watched in silence as Ben Layton and his men left the building and headed up the street.

* * *

"So how'd it go?" demanded Buck.

Chris was sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him. "Got me a job. Wants me to kill the territorial governor. He's due here in about 24 hours."

Buck let out a low whistle.

"How much is he paying you for this?" asked Ezra.

Chris smiled. "You don't want to know."

"_That_ much?"

"So what's our plan?" said Buck.

"Good question."

* * *

JD shifted on the sandy floor. Los Caidos was holed up in abandoned Indian caves cut within the rimrock cliffs. Pines and junipers dotted the top and huddled around the base, with broken rock tumbled in places below.

A small hidden stream nearby supplied the camp with water, and the caves themselves were sparsely furnished with a few rough-hewn pieces. The other men didn't seem to mind the Spartan existence; in fact, they seemed to enjoy the challenge of it.

Layton had a large, airy cell all to himself that was always guarded. From what JD could see, no one got in without Layton's say-so.

JD got up and headed down to the stream to get some water. He knelt beside the stream and reached a hand in when a voice nearby made him jump.

"Mr. Layton wants to see you."

JD followed the man up the weather-worn trail, past the guards, until he was standing right in front of Ben Layton. The room was unusually comfortable, with a real bed and real furniture. An old Indian cooking area against one wall served as a fireplace that burned low, keeping the room just dry enough.

"Sit down, Mr. Dunne," said Layton, indicated a chair.

JD studied him, looking for some clue of what it was the man wanted.

"I heard you had some words with your brother in town. Cigar?"

"No thanks."

Layton leaned back in his chair, sipping from a glass of whiskey. "You remind me of someone." He looked irritably at the guards and waved them out the room before continuing. "JD–may I call you JD? I had a son about your age. He was a martyr recently for the cause."

"I'm sorry."

"If you think I'm grieving, I'm not. He's with God now. He had a mission not far from here. And although he didn't complete that mission, he still managed to get our message across. He died of his burns just 2 days later."

Layton paused, lost in thought for a moment, then stood up, pacing as he talked.

"He was about your age. He had great potential for leadership. Great passion. Like yourself." He stopped in front of JD and bent till they were nose-to-nose. "There's a future for you here," he said softly. "I want you to think about that."

Layton strolled back behind the desk, sat down, and put up his feet.

"Have you ever heard of Chris Larabee?"

JD paused to consider his answer. "Only by reputation."

"A good one?"

"A deadly one."

Layton smiled. "Good, good. I've hired him to do a little job for me. How are you with a gun?"

JD couldn't suppress a swell of pride. "I'm pretty fast."

"Accurate?"

"Well...mostly."

"Hmm...That's too bad. I need someone who's accurate with a rifle. I need someone to see to it that Chris Larabee finishes the job. And I need someone to see to Chris Larabee."

JD licked his lips. It was worth a try.

"There's a fella over in the jail with a reputation like that."

"That Mr. Tanner? I've already spoken with him." Layton puffed his cigar thoughtfully. "He's a sharpshooter, you say..."

JD got quickly to his feet. "Let me talk to him. Let me at least try. What have you got to lose?"

Layton laughed appreciatively. "Why? Surely there must be another one. One who isn't jailed."

"Not like him! Why, I heard he can shoot the eyes off a snake!"

Layton laughed appreciatively. "Don't believe everything you hear about a man's reputation, son. My son had your stubborn enthusiasm, too. All right, you can try if you really must. But we don't beg, here, understand? If he still says no, then let 'im hang."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Ezra weaved drunkenly down the sidewalk to the jail. He reeled in front of the door and then walked in.

"You again!" said the deputy, tartly. "Got any more bad liquor for me?"

"My good man..." Ezra slurred, "I must apolo-aspolo-say I'm sorry for that. But you yourself must admit it was very bad indeed." He staggered over to the desk, leaning on it heavily. "But I am not here to cast more asper-asper-critishism over the questionable quality of the spirits in this town."

"No?"

"NO SIR! I'm here to see HIM!" He pointed an angry finger at Vin. "That scalawag, that ne'er-do-well!"

"He's a murderer," said the deputy.

"It's worse than that," Ezra replied indignantly. "He's a deadbeat!" He turned back to Vin. "You, sir, still owe me for that repast back in Whiskey Creek." He turned beseechingly to the deputy. "I paid for this man's rather large–and if I may add–gourmet feast. I took pity on him when he didn't have sufficient funds of his own!" He spun around back to Vin. "You owe me!", he shouted, grabbing Vin by the jacket.

The deputy moved quickly to intervene.

"He's on some kind of medicine," yelled Vin as the deputy struggled to release Ezra from Vin. "Probably left it in his hotel room!"

The deputy paused, uncertainly.

"Get it! Hurry, before he turns on you, too!"

Ezra turned to the deputy with a snarl. The deputy turned pale and ran from the room.

"Nice work, Ezra."

"Thank you. Now to let you out of here."

"No."

"No? Have you forgotten you're worth money dead OR alive? And I don't think they're going to be all that particular."

"They ain't gonna hang me."

"Mr. Tanner, while I'm sure you have charms undreamt of , I don't think it's going to get you out of a murder charge."

"JD was just here. Just outside that window. Layton's on his way here. You'd best skedaddle, Ezra."

Ezra sighed. "Another stage-worthy performance wasted. I hope you know what you're doing."

The con artist had barely left when Layton came striding up. He watched Ben Layton swoop inside with his men and an irate sheriff in tow.

"You're lettin' him OUT? Mr. Layton...I don't mean no disrespect but...he's a killer!"

"Now, Sheriff Harley, you must have made some mistake. This man is a member of my organization. I need him. Isn't that right, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin nodded. "Fer a fact."

"Let him out, Sheriff."

"Sir–I–I can't. He's wanted and it's my duty–"

Layton moved very close. "And just how long do you think it's going to remain your duty if you don't do your job as instructed?"

Harley scowled. "Yes, sir," he said meekly, reluctantly unlocking the cell door.

Vin smiled as he walked up to Layton. "Where we goin'?"

Layton did not smile back. "You're staying in town. Your room is already paid for. You'll be contacted with the particulars later. Just be around. And be sober."

* * *

Chris settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes. They had been trying to flesh out a plan for awhile now, and now he was just tired of it.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"So who's gonna go?"

"Guess it's gotta be you. You're the one who's always braggin' on havin' a fast horse."

"Fine, then let's do it." Buck got up to leave, nodding to Chris and Ezra. "Watch yer backs. And don't go kissin' no females either. They ain't pretty enough in _this_ town. They couldn't be."

* * *

Vin lay on the coverlet in his hotel room. It was one of better rooms, surprisingly. He really wanted to talk to Chris or the others, but didn't dare. He was pretty sure Layton's men were watching him and, as far as anyone in town knew, the only person he was even remotely acquainted with was Ezra.

And now JD was part of Los Caidos. And Layton wanted Vin to kill Chris. He sighed and rolled onto his stomach. If he didn't kill Chris–or even if he did–he was sure that Layton's men would make sure he didn't live to spend the money Layton offered him.

* * *

Chris sighed, feeling far more tired than any man ought to. Now that his appetite was slowly returning and the nightmares had eased somewhat, his arm had his full attention. The throb he'd grown used to had been joined by an annoying itch he couldn't scratch through the layers of bandages.

He had slept more than he wanted to, but he still didn't feel any better. Layton's plan to kill the governor bothered him. It was too simple. Why wasn't he using one of his own men to do it? To frame him for the murder?

And then there was JD. Chris hadn't seen JD since he'd arrived in town. Buck had told him about Los Caidos and Chris could only hope that the kid knew what he was getting himself into. He rubbed his face, and glanced over at Ezra, who was still asleep. Morning wasn't far away, but Chris rolled over and tried to get back to sleep anyway.

* * *

Ezra opened the window and took a deep breath.

"It's quite a pleasant morning," he remarked. "More's the pity, given what's to take place later." He looked at his pocketwatch. "The governor should be here in a few hours." He turned to Chris, who stood by the dresser, shaving. Ezra noted that his hand was much steadier than it had been. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Now it's up to Mr. Wilmington."

Chris peered into the mirror, wiping off the last of the shaving foam. "You can always count on Buck."

The corners of Ezra's mouth quirked, but he said nothing.

* * *

Layton had invited the territorial governor to give a speech to the town in front of the saloon about his views on statehood. Always eager for a larger constituency, he was only too happy to oblige.

Chris had oiled and cleaned his gun the night before. Nothing could go wrong. Too much depended on it. Now he checked it again as he sat on the bed. His instructions had been simple ones. Layton had also reassured him that his Los Caidos would rendezvous with him, make sure he was paid, and ensure his escape.

Chris had plans of his own as he quietly headed down the hall to the room that would be assigned to the governor.

The room was a corner room at the end of the hall, airy and large, with dark mahogany furniture and a tall changing screen. He paused in front the window, then took a position behind the screen, near the floor-length curtains, and waited.

* * *

From a rooftop, Vin squinted through the sight on his rifle. Corner window, straight ahead. There was Chris now. He nodded to Chris, then peered through the sight again as Chris moved to the left, almost out of view, but not quite.

* * *

The governor, flanked by four bodyguards, arrived in fine style. He waved to the people as his carriage rolled down the main street, straight to the hotel. Directly across from the hotel, a makeshift platform had been set up where he would make his speech. The tall, barrel-chested man grinned and tipped his hat, revealing curly salt-and-pepper hair before alighting from the carriage.

Ben Layton greeted them, JD by his side. "A pleasure, governor. I'm Ben Layton. On behalf of the Shady Hollow community, let me welcome you."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Layman..."

Layton's smile took on a pasted-on appearance. "Ah, I'm sorry, governor, that's Layton. But no matter. Your room has been prepared if you'd like to freshen up. Do you think you could be ready in about fifteen minutes?"

"Why, of course." The governor started into the building, then paused and turned. "Is there whiskey in the room already or do I need to have that sent up?"

Layton smiled wider. "Everything required is there, I assure you."

* * *

Ezra took a seat just outside the saloon, across from the hotel. His casual manner belied the coiled energy inside as he waited for something to happen.

* * *

Chris could hear the parade of footsteps down the hall, coming nearer. He hated to do things this way, but there was no other choice. His thumb slowly drew back the Colt's hammer as the doorknob turned and the door opened ...

* * *

Vin sighted on the window. He had seen the governor's entourage arrive and knew that in just a few seconds things were going to get very hot.

He heard four shots, then shouts. He watched as Chris leaped out the window, scrambled off the low overhang and darted toward his horse. He heard a shot, saw Chris start, and looked around. Where had it come from?

Harley. Harley was trying to get enough another shot, when he was blocked by 'panicked citizens.' Los Caidos, probably.

Chris was still on his horse, though, making good his escape. Quickly, Vin twisted his body around, picking off two Los Caidos men who had been covering him. He scrambled off the roof, and disappeared down the alley.

* * *

Layton quickly crossed the street in long strides.

"Now's the time, JD," he said.

"For what?"

"To shape the future! Watch."

Layton climbed onto the platform and turned to the people. "Ladies and Gentleman! The Governor has been assassinated! But take heart, good people! Now is our chance to spread the utopia we have built here in Shady Hollow to a new and better nation! Now is our chance to lay the foundation for what will become the Republic of Arizona! The governor's death will serve as a wake-up call to the United States that their Godless, sinful way of life will not be imposed on us but, rather, that we have found the better way and they should follow US, or risk the wrath and final punishment of God!" The townspeople looked on, stunned. Several Los Caidos men, positioned throughout the crowd, cheered him on as Layton continued. "Trust in me! _I_ will lead you!"

"LOOK!" JD shouted, pointing to the hotel. A tall, burly figure emerged from the doorway, flanked by four men.

"The report of my death has been greatly exaggerated," the governor said evenly.

Layton looked apoplectic, but recovered quickly. "Governor...how good to see you alive..." he began lamely.

"I'm glad you're glad," Josiah replied. "But I'm not the governor." Josiah looked at him calmly and nodded toward the hotel, just over his shoulder. "He is."

One of the bodyguards took a step forward.

"Good day, Mr. Layton. Perhaps I should introduce you to these three federal marshals?" He raised his voice to address the crowd. "As of right now, this town is under martial law until further notice."

"NO!" Layton lunged for the governor, but was intercepted by JD as shots began to fly. JD struggled with Layton as people screamed and ran for cover. There was chaos everywhere as Vin, Ezra, and Josiah, joined by the federal marshals, exchanged fire with the men of Los Caidos.

At that moment, Nathan appeared with the Judge. Without waiting for explanation, the two men immediately joined the fray, taking cover and returning gunfire.

Layton fought like the Devil had a hold of him. He managed a stunning blow to JD's temple. He leapt from the platform and started to run. Between flying bullets and flying fists, Layton managed to steal a horse as he made his escape.

Ezra had just dodged a blow, when he turned and lunged for Layton. From astride the horse, the man's boot connected with Ezra's chest, knocking the wind of out him.

Vin cursed as his rifle jammed. Layton had been in his sight and in the blink an eye, the moment had passed.

Layton kicked the horse as he began to make his escape down the street when Chris stepped in front of him suddenly, his gun drawn. The horse reined sharply.

Layton looked at Chris and grinned tightly. "When you shot the governor, you must have used blanks, Mr. Larabee. So that's all you have in your gun now." He spurred the horse forward, and reached for his gun when Chris fired.

"Not _all_ of 'em," he replied calmly.

A second shot hit the prostrate form, and Chris twisted his body around sharply. He stopped when he saw the sheriff, his gun still smoking.

A shout could be heard over the fight in the street. "Federal troops! There's federal troops coming!"

Everyone froze as a small company of soldiers appeared, led by none other than Buck Wilmington. Among the few Los Caidos still standing some chose that moment to run, pursued by soldiers. Others quickly surrendered.

Chris watched as Harley was disarmed along with the others.

"You killed your patron. You coulda helped him escape."

Harley shrugged. "Why were you guys after him, anyway?"

"He killed a lot of people in our town. Why'd _you_ shoot 'im?"

Harley looked at him. "It occurred to me that he knew about the 'assassination of the governor' as soon as it happened. But he was never in the hotel."

Chris nodded.

* * *

Between the judge, the governor and the federal troops now installed in Shady Hollow, a new town government had to be built. The seven left that to the politicians and the citizens as they reunited in Buck's room.

Nathan watched with interest as Doc Bailey patched Chris's shoulder wound and changed the wrapping around his arm.

"Thanks," said Chris.

"Lucky you didn't re-injure that–and worse," the doctor clucked. He turned to Nathan. "I'll trust you to keep an eye on this patient. You get any problems with 'im, or you got any questions at all, you just send me a wire. Wire service oughta be up again in about a week."

Nathan grinned. "Thanks, Doc. What do we owe ya?"

"Least I could do. You boys done a lot for this town. I'm looking forward to readin' a real newspaper again." The doctor snapped his bag shut and started to go. "And you, Mr. Wilmington, you be a bit more choosy who you kiss! You got that?"

"THAT'D be a first," laughed JD.

Buck looked at him. "Oh, look who's talkin' 'bout bein' choosy about one's company. That man damn near had you adopted, and you know it!" He looked serious for a moment. "Too bad ya can't hang a dead man." The room was silent for a moment, as each of them pondered Layton and his twisted bid for power at the cost of so many lives.

At last, Buck leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "Looks like I arrived just in time. As usual."

Chris smiled. "Like I always said, you can always count on Buck."

Buck nodded. "Good thing I come along."

"Good thing ya did."

* * *

END


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